


For Love is Blind

by AcetheHeart



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Completed, F/M, Female Reader, Multi, Reader is Christine, Reader-Insert, Why has no one made this yet??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-05-14 01:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcetheHeart/pseuds/AcetheHeart
Summary: From his hideout beneath a 19th century Paris opera house, the brooding Phantom schemes to get closer to vocalist Y/N Daaé.The Phantom, wearing a mask to hide a congenital disfigurement, strong-arms management into giving the budding starlet key roles, but Y/N’s old friend Raoul emerges from her past.Terrified at the notion of her absence, the Phantom enacts a plan to keep Y/N by his side, while Raoul tries to foil the scheme.





	1. Am I Fonder?

Wind swept off the Baltic Sea, bringing a cool chill to the beach where little Y/N was walking. Her father, Gustave Daaé, was sitting comfortably in the sand, watching her so he knew she wouldn’t be getting into any trouble. It was far too cold for her to go swimming, and even if it was warm enough, he didn’t have enough confidence to say she could do on her own.

“Y/N, my dear, please be careful,” Gustave called, his worry wasn’t misplaced, she was walking awfully close to the shore and looking off like she...was missing something.

“Father, my scarf!” The poor girl suddenly cried out as she turned, sure enough, a scrap of red fabric surfaced only to be brought under the water again a moment later. Getting it back seemed an impossibility until there was a splash next to young Y/N, a boy had jumped into the frigid water, getting the girl's frocks wet with salt water. 

An older woman, the person who had been watching him, shrieked in horror, “Raoul de Chagny!” Was the name she called, so it was safe to assume the boy out there catching hypothermia was named Raoul. It seemed like a blur when her father held her back, calling for the young lad as well. He would surely die if he stayed in the frozen water for much longer! 

_Was all this fuss for her and her silly red scarf?_

Holding her breath when the boy surfaced again, the older woman grabbed his arm and helped him back onto dry land. 

“I got it!” He announced through chattering teeth, holding up the wet cloth. By now Gustave had let Y/N go, more worried about the boy with the blue lips. “Mademoiselle,” he shivered and outstretched his hand, “your scarf!” 

The girl seemed flabbergasted for a moment before she took her scarf from his cold hand, “thank you, Monsieur.” She teased affectionately, finding it charming how French he sounded. Who was this boy and what compelled him to rescue her scarf? “I am Y/N Daaé, why are you staying in Sweden?” How forward the young could be, but Raoul didn't seem to mind, not in the slightest, really.

After Raoul was dried, the two children spoke, played games, and read stories until their noses turned red from the night air. Each decided the other a very good playmate before going their separate ways, and as Y/N lie in her bed, she listened to her father by the fireplace; singing songs of angels.


	2. My One Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gustave Daaé has fallen ill.  
> What will become of his daughter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP, even though I tagged 'slow updates' this still took too long lol

“Father?” A weak voice called from the doorway, a strange man stood with a chunky black bag. Y/N didn’t recognize him, only that he came to her house late last week. The man’s hair was greying and he seemed to be in a pensive mood, frowning at the young girl, he shook his head. “Father…” she began again, stepping to the side so the man could pass her.

Gustave frowned, not meeting his daughter’s questioning gaze, “that was a doctor, my little angel.” He spoke to her in his warm and gentle voice, forever giving her comfort. 

“Why was he here?”

A solemn chuckle fell from his lips, “oh dear, oh my angel of music. I have fallen ill,” his eyes became glassy as she ran to his side, demanding a much needed hug. Crawling onto the bed, Y/N resting on his lap like she had done when she was only a toddler. The little girl was only six, and though she considered herself a very big girl; she couldn’t live without her guardian, “father, you musn’t be ill! You aren’t, you’re lying!” She began to cry, and it felt like there was almost nothing he could do to stop her...so he sang and rocked her like a baby, that's when Gustave finally smiled down at her, “child, when I am in heaven, I shall send your angel to earth so he may watch over you in my absence.” 

Her cheeks were dried by him and she looked up with wide eyes, “you will?” 

His smile reached the apple of his cheeks for the first time that week and he nodded eagerly, “yes, of course.” He promised her, placing a kiss on her forehead. “I'll be fine, dear. Perhaps my health will get better if we traveled,” Gustave added coyly, changing his daughter’s mood almost instantly.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Your little friend, Mr. de Chagny, spoke fondly of France. Especially during the spring,” Gustave knew, deep down, that he wouldn't be getting any better but he also knew someone in France that could possibly raise his girl until she was old enough to take care of herself.

Y/N’s eyes lit up, “France?!” 

“France!” He confirmed, giving her another hug as she threw herself at him.

The two did, in fact, move to France. The spring seemed to thaw their frozen hearts, but it also unthawed the dirt. The dirt that now held Gustave Daaé and his extravagant mausoleum, no eyes were dry on that fateful day and after the ceremony, Y/N sat on the steps, her weeping had calmed significantly but the scattered hiccups were still audible. 

“Child?” An older female voice spoke up, startling the poor girl. She turned with watery eyes to look at the woman who called for her attention, she was tall and her hair was in a long braid. A little blonde girl stood behind her, staring at her curiously, they appeared to be the same age, “Miss Daaé, your father contacted me before he passed,” she began, “he told you, didn't he?” 

“He mentioned the Opéra Populaire,” Y/N nodded with another pitiful sniff, “and a woman, the ballet teacher.”

“Yes, I am Madame Giry, _the ballet teacher_.” 

Shiny E/C eyes met Madame Giry’s icy, yet strangely comforting stare, yes, her father would've wanted her to stay with this woman. Looking up at the mausoleum once more, a gasp of air caught in her throat, there was a shadow of a man peeking through the gate… and the faint sound of a voice, almost as if it was humming. 

_Angel_.

She stood up slowly and back away, although she wasn't frightened, “yes, Madame Giry, I’ll go with you.” 

§

The Opéra Populaire was, for the lack of a better word, huge. Bigger than any building Y/N had ever been in before, half-naked women hung up on the walls - cast in a beautiful gold while watching over everyone like guardian angels. The theatre itself was even grander if that was possible, red velvet seats lined the floors and a crystal chandelier hung above it all. 

Was she really going to live and train here?

Meg, whom she had learned was Madame Giry’s daughter, ran past her to a group of small ballerinas, startling Y/N from her daydream. “Those are the ballerinas in training,” Madame Giry gestured, “and those,” the older woman added, moving her gaze to the stage, “are our prima ballerinas. You might join them one day.”

La Sorelli was up there, dancing on her pointed slippers, almost mimicking the poster of her next to La Charlotta’s. The prima ballerina and the opera diva, together, practicing like no one else was there. It left Y/N feeling pretty intimidated, causing the young girl to stay close to Madame Giry. “Do you...does the opera house have a church?” The young girl asked, changing the subject rather quickly, “I wish to light a candle for my father.” 

The older woman looked down at her, smiling sympathetically, “of course, miss Daaé. I'll show you the way,” with a hand on her shoulder blade, Madame Giry lead her behind the curtain. It was rather dark and strange sounds from above made chills rise on her arms, but as soon as she saw light coming through an intricate stained glass window; her heart was put to ease. 

“I'll wait for you outside.” 

“Thank you, Madame.” Seeing she had left, the young girl was surprised to see a candle had already been lit. Taking a long match, Y/N took the flame from the candle and lit another for her father, “oh, papa. Why have you left me all alone? I don't know if I can go on without you, I miss you.” 

“I haven’t left you alone, child.” A deep masculine voice answered, he was not her father but...how could there be a voice answering her prayers? “ _I am your Angel of Music_.” 

Little Y/N’s eyes widened and she did something that surprised the hidden man, she smiled, “I knew it! I knew father would send you! Where are you, my angel?” 

“ _Inside your mind._ ”

§

As the days turned into weeks and the week to months, Y/N was drawn closer and closer to the man who called himself her angel. She grew and gave him her company when the small chapel was empty in the wee hours of the night, in turn, he gave her a name; Erik. 

And when months turned into years, the young woman pushed away from ballet and told Erik she desired to sing. There had never been a happier day than that, he began tutoring her and it was almost like her father was there - guiding her to be apart of the chorus in an upcoming production of Chalumeau's Hannibal. 

“Now remember, my angel, your voice is good but you must stay with me if you want to improve.” The haunting voice called from behind the walls, his plan was beginning to fall into place, he couldn't have anyone ruining it for him.

Y/N smiled at the flickering candle before her, completely unaware of how quickly her life was about to change, “of course, my protector.”


	3. The Enslaving Force of Rome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The question of the Chapter™️: Who's your perfect Raoul?  
> I personally loved Hadley Fraser (from the 25th Anniversary)! (And my first Raoul, Jordan Craig).

“ _This trophy from our saviors, from our saviors! From the enslaving force of Rome!_ ” Charlotta’s awful croak rang out across the empty opera house, well, her voice wasn't terrible but her personality certainly was. 

It was sort of an inside joke amongst the male and female ballerinas, calling her voice nasty because her attitude was. It wasn't meant to be harmful. At least, that's what Meg and Y/N said, and the two girls liked to agree with each other now that they were closer. 

Running up to the curtains, Meg laughed joyously as the music started at full blast, “ _with feasting and dancing and song, tonight in celebration. We greet the victorious throng, returned to bring salvation!_ ” All the chorus girls sang out at once, the ballet girls followed behind - bouncing around in their slave costumes and pointed shoes. 

Their voices were soon followed by the men in the chorus, “ _the trumpet of Carthage resound. Hear, Romans, now and tremble. Hark to our step on the ground, hear the drums! Hannibal comes!_ ” 

The stage lights dimmed and the dancers moved to the side, making room for Ubaldo Piangi. Piangi was a stout man, but he was far kinder than his counterpart (Charlotta) was. Kinder in the sense that he hardly ever spoke to Y/N, and when he did it was the offhanded ‘have you seen this?’, ‘why don't you do that instead?’ and so on. “ _Sad to return to find the land we love, threatened once more by Roma's far-reaching grasp!_ ” 

A baton was tapped against the maestro’s music stand, distracting everyone in the process, “gentlemen, gentlemen…!” 

“Rehearsals, as you can see, are underway for a new production of Chalumeau's Hannibal.” Monsieur Lefèvre said as he emerged from backstage. Monsieur Lefèvre was the owner of the opera house, but it seemed as though he didn't care that he was interrupting his workers’ rehearsal. The man was showing two others dressed in fine clothing around, so maybe he did have a good reason. 

Meg shuffled back over to Y/N’s side, pulling her closer to what her friend probably thought was ‘action’, the two young ladies ignored the annoyed cries of their maestro in favor of chatting with the male ballet dancer. 

“Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry, ladies and gentlemen, please!” Lefèvre called, cutting the chit-chat of the performers short, “if I could have your attention, thank you.” Reluctantly quieting down, everyone gave him the attention he desired, though Meg continued to tug on Y/N’s arm. “As you know, for some weeks there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these…are all true.” 

Carlotta interrupted him momentarily, saying she had known the whole time with a little ‘a-ha’. 

Eyeing the singer, Lefèvre continued, “ _ **and**_ ,” it wasn't hard to tell he was rather irritated with everything going on around him, “it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire; Monsieur Richard Firmin and Monsieur Gilles Andre.” 

Y/N turned to Meg during the clapping, “do you think he's stressed?”

“Why else would he be quitting?” 

“I suppose you're right,” she nodded, tapping the toe of her ballet shoe against the stage floor, “I will miss him.” 

Lefèvre carried on talking about Firmin and Andre, as well as their junk business (scrap metal, actually). Nothing that really kept the ballet girls’ attention. Other than Meg, of course, who thought they must be terribly rich and made it known that she would be fond of them if such a thing were true. 

One of the men, Monsieur Firmin, stepped closer to the group of performers, “and we are deeply honored to introduce our new patron.”

“The Vicomte de Chagny!” Monsieur Andre continued, peaking Y/N’s interest almost immediately, her eyes widened once she saw her childhood friend. He was actually there, at the opera house! 

Turning to grab the other ballet dancer's arm, Y/N spoke in a soft whisper, “I know the Vicomte, Meg. We played at my house by the sea, you remember the one, don’t you?”

“The one in Sweden? Yes, I remember.” The blonde nodded eagerly, stealing a glance at the man, “oh, Y/N, he’s so handsome.” 

Raoul had grown into a handsome gentleman, though he still had that boyish face Y/N remembered so well, it was obvious that he had matured. “My parents and I are honored to support all the arts, especially the world-renowned Opera Populaire.” He said, his voice had gotten deeper, but the question was - would he remember her? Y/N moved to step forward, but before Raoul could even notice her; Carlotta stepped in her way. 

Monsieur Lefèvre took the hint better than the poor choir girl did, “Vicomte, gentlemen? This is Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons.”

Meg drew Y/N back to her side, knowing there’d be no effort made to introduce any of the ‘lower’ artists, “she’s been around for way more than five seasons.” She added under her breath before addressing her best friend, “don’t worry, we’ll speak with him later. I wouldn’t get in Carlotta’s way,” she warned. 

Piangi made an unnatural coughing noise, deciding it was his turn to be introduced. He was Signor Ubaldo Piangi, did they all think the Vicomte couldn’t read window-sized posters? “An honor, Signor. I believe I am keeping you from your rehearsal, so I will be here this evening to share your great triumph.” Raoul spoke confidently to the male opera singer before turning away from Y/N to yet again apologize to the maestro for interrupting.

Monsieur Reyer waved his hand as if to brush off the whole thing, “thank you, Monsieur le Vicomte!” Tapping the music stand once again, everyone was ushered back into their place, “once more if you please, Signor!”

Y/N didn’t really want to continue with rehearsal, she wanted to speak with Raoul. What was he like now and how had he changed? Most importantly, what would her angel think of her childhood friend? Not to mention this new management. 

But the world didn't stop for her, so the ballet continued… 

“We take particular pride in the excellence of our ballet, Monsieur.” Madame Giry spoke with pride, explaining to Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin just whom Meg and Y/N were. 

“Daaé, did you say? No relation to the famous Swedish violinist?” Monsieur Andre asked, only to be told that she was Gustave’s only child, his only blood left. There must've been extraordinary talent there, the two gentlemen looked at each other; they would be keeping that in mind. 

“An orphan, you say?”

“ _Hannibal's Friends! The trumpeting elephant sound, hear, Romans, now and tremble. Hark to their step on the ground, hear the drums! Hannibal comes_!”

“All day!” Carlotta suddenly shouted, it was honestly a good try, finishing the first song of the opera was quite an accomplishment in this opera, “all they want is the dancing!” 

Monsieur Lefèvre rubbed his temples to calm his impending headache, “well, the Vicomte is very excited about tonight's gala.” 

“I hope he is as excited about dancing girls as your new managers because I will not be singing!”

The entire ensemble groaned, ‘why must she always do this?’, ‘no opera for tonight, I suppose’, and ‘so we won't be finishing Hannibal?’ were whispered around the great hall. All grievances were completely valid and true, but no one said them loud enough for Carlotta to actually hear. Monsieur Andre looked absolutely petrified at these musings, “what do we do?”

Monsieur Lefèvre had seen this before, dealt with this before, and most definitely didn't want to deal with it again, “grovel,” he instructed, “grovel, grovel!”

“This is terrible,” one of the smallest ballet girls whined, “this was my debut!”

“Stop worrying, Little Jammes, go chatter at La Sorelli.” Meg shooed her off, watching the new managers fawn over Carlotta, they would really do anything for the diva. 

“Monsieur Reyer, isn't there a rather marvelous aria for Elissa in Act. 3 of Hannibal?”

“Yes, Yes, But, _**no**_!” Carlotta snapped at Andre, “‘cause I ‘ave not my costume for Act. 3, ‘cause _**someone**_ not finish it! And I ‘ate my hat.” Shaking her head quickly, she took off her hat and shoved it into some woman's arms, “no, that's better.” She laughed, waving her hand around lazily, “if my managers command! Monsieur Reyer?”

Y/N turned to her friend, “perhaps we should leave before our ears start to bleed?” 

Monsieur Reyer tapped once again, “if my diva commands?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Too late,” Meg bellowed, taking steps back as the ladies cleaning the velvet chairs plugged their ears. Madame Giry stood behind them, making sure they didn't go anywhere. This only made Meg’s sorrowful face grow stronger, “ _mother_.”

Covering their ears helped through the first few verses but Madame Giry was not having it, she hit her staff against the stage, startling the girls so they would uncover their ears and listen to the lady's mind-numbing voice.

“ _When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and_ —” Carlotta’s singing was cut short by what seemed like, for a moment, a godly source. Until everyone realized that it was a backdrop falling from the ceiling; screams erupted from almost everyone on the stage. Backdrops were terribly heavy, if it were not for Carlotta’s thick head - she would've died.

“He's here, Y/N, it's the Phantom of the Opera.” Meg took her hands, glancing up at the rafters. 

“What do you mean, Meg?” 

“Signora, are you alright? Buquet, for God's sake, man, what is going on up there?”

Joseph Buquet, the chief stagehand for the opera house, came down onto the stage. He seemed rather dazed, “please Monsieur, don't look at me! As God's my judge, I wasn't at my post.” 

“If he wasn't there, who was?” Little Jammes asked, pushing her way between Y/N and Meg again.

“It must be a ghost.” Buquet finished, startling the girl. 

His claims were brushed off, no one took the ghost thing too seriously but Buquet was still in trouble for not being at his post (and endangering the life of the opera's favorite diva). This obviously did not go over well with the said diva, which only made Andre want to calm everyone down, frantically waving his arms around, he spoke up again, “these things do happen!” 

“Oh, Monsieur Andre!” Y/N exclaimed, “why did you say—”

“Si! These things do happen!” Carlotta interrupted her to bite back at the man angrily, “well, until you stop these things from happening, _this_ thing does not happen!” The opera diva waved at herself before storming off, leaving behind an entire cast to worry about their jobs.

Monsieur Lefèvre sighed through his nose, “gentlemen, good luck. And if you need me, I shall be in Frankfurt.” 

“Signora Giudicelli, she will be coming back won't she?” Andre tried backtracking, but Lefèvre was already gone.

Madame Giry came forth with a note, trying to hide her amusement, “you think so Monsieur? I have a message, here, from the opera ghost.” 

Her words peaked Y/N’s interest, the Opera Ghost? Her angel must've known about this phantom - this ghoul that was tormenting the concert hall, and he must've been keeping her safe. 

“Oh, God in heaven, you're all obsessed!” 

Madame Giry rolled her eyes, “he welcomes you to his opera house.”

“‘ _His’ opera house_?” Firmin repeated, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. 

“That's right, and he commands that you continue to leave box five empty for his use and reminds you that his salary is due.”

“ _His salary_?!”

Y/N hadn't noticed it before, but Madame Giry seemed very calm about this whole ghost business. Had her angel been protecting her too? The thought put a smile on her face, it was too bad he couldn't save Carlotta the embarrassment. Of course, the diva was a rude person but the backdrop could've done serious damage. What if it had fallen on one of the innocent ballet girls? 

“Monsieur Lefèvre used to give him 20,000 francs a month.”

Poor Monsieur Firmin looked like he was on the verge of a stroke, “ _20,000 francs_?!”

Madame Giry pursed her lips, “perhaps you can afford more with the Vicomte as your patron?”

Firmin hardly missed a step, he would not be bullied in his own opera house, “Madame, I had hoped to make that announcement public tonight when the Vicomte was to join us for the gala. But obviously,” the new manager ripped the ghost’s note in half, “we shall now have to cancel as it appears we have lost our star!” 

“Surely there must be an...understudy!” Andre spoke up, taking one half of the ripped note, “an understudy!”

“An understudy?” Monsieur Reyer called out in disbelief, “there is no understudy for La Carlotta!”

“A full house, Andre! We shall have to refund a full house!”

Meg, being forever watchful, glanced at the two new managers, ‘freaking out’ was putting their behavior lightly; did they not know what they were getting into when they signed up? Ah, but the young ballerina wouldn't let Carlotta ruin everything for tonight's opera, “Y/N Daaé could sing it, sir!” She shouted, catching their attention, “she would make a lovely Elissa, her voice better suits the character too.”

“What, the chorus girl?” Firmin questioned, not understanding how a background vocalist could carry an entire production as well as La Charlotta could. He was even more doubtful when he remember just how close the two were, ‘like sisters’ if what he had heard from Giry was true. 

“Let her sing for you, Monsieur. She has been well taught, she has been taking lessons from a great teacher.” The said Giry spoke up in defense of her daughter and the young Daaé. 

Andre stopped his impending panic attack for a moment, “who?”

“Well, I…I don't know his name, Monsieur.” She lied, wanting to keep her angel safe in return. Erik was her little piece of heaven, her father sent him and she wasn't ready to share him with the rest of the Opera Populaire. 

“All right, come on, then. Don't be shy, just…” Andre continued rambling, motioning for the girl to begin her makeshift audition for them. Y/N walked to center stage, looking back at Madame Giry warily, she had never been anything more than a ballerina and a member of the ensemble. 

“You can do it, Y/N!” Meg suddenly encouraged, “you can do it.”


	4. We Never Said Our Love Was Evergreen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N's first show went great!  
> But how will Raoul's visit effect our story?

“Oh, Andre, this is doing nothing for my nerves!” Firmin pushed, trying not to have his opinion shoved too far to the side. 

“Well, she is very pretty.” Andre reasoned, no one could be worse than Carlotta and her high pitched screeching.

Y/N waited for the piano cue before she took a deep breath, “ _think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye_.” The nervousness quickly overwhelmed her and she tried to make a run for it, she was only stopped when Madame Giry hit her staff against the stage. “ _Remember me,_ ” she squeaked, “ _once in awhile. Please, promise me you'll try_.” 

Looking back at Meg’s cheerful face, she realized there was nothing to be afraid of. Confidence, whether it was fake or not, swelled in her chest, “ _when you find that, once again, you long to take your heart back and be free. If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me_!”

Firmin’s panic turned into pure delight, “she's perfect!” 

“No understudy for La Carlotta, _ha_!” Andre scoffed, and suddenly there was a rush around Y/N - she needed Carlotta’s dresses resized, she needed her hair and makeup done. They needed to make new posters for outside the opera house!

Before she knew it, she was on stage by herself with the bright lights and warm candles making her skin glow. Loud music swelled for a moment before quitting again, the house was full - every seat was full and the air around the stage felt like absolute magic, “ _we never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember; stop and think of me. Think of all the things we've shared and seen, don't think about the things that might have been._ ” Lowering her voice, she looked down as if forlorned, “ _think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned. Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind_!”

The scarf between her fingers dragged across the stage as she sang, her dance was far easier than it used to be, all she had to do was act lost and in love. Something she didn't think she had ever been, “ _recall those days, look back on all those times and think of the things we'll never do. There will never be a day when I won't think of you_!”

The sweeping sparkling magic lifted to one of the boxes, box five to be exact; and up there was Raoul, “can it be?” He questioned breathlessly, “can it be Y/N? Bravo!” Clapping excitedly, the Vicomte could hardly keep the nostalgia from creeping up.

“ _Long ago! It seemed so long ago, how young and innocent we were. She may not remember me but I remember her_ …”

“... _flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade. They have their seasons, so do we_.” Y/N hadn't noticed her childhood friend cheering her on, but the feeling of encouragement surged through her, this was it; her moment. “ _But please, promise me, that sometimes you will think_ …” 

Her angel's voice training suddenly came in handy, she worked her vocals calmly at first - using a deep tenor before shooting straight up to her natural soprano, “ _ **of me**_!”

A standing ovation was in order and that's exactly what happened, rows of people stood up - cheers and even a few whistles erupted, along with a rainshower of flowers. 

Y/N's smile seemed to touch her eyes, she took a bow as the lights dimmed, meaning she could take her leave. Meg ran up to her and gave her a warm hug, “what did I say? I knew you could do it!” All the other ballerinas circled around her too, congratulating her on a job well done. 

A job very well done.

“Thank you, thank you all so much.” She laughed, quieting down so she could look up at Madame Giry when she came over. The other woman looked proud of her and placed her hand on the young ingénue shoulder, “you did very well, Y/N. _He will be pleased with you_ ,” the last bit was hushed into a whisper, not that Y/N would know what she meant anyway. 

She assumed that it was the managers, they’d be pleased with her; no doubt about it. 

Handing off the bouquet of flowers she had collected to the younger girls, she started walking down the darkened hall with the older woman. 

Y/N picked up the train of her dress, not wanting it to get caught on anything. The dress was far too lovely to dirty up, “thank you, Madame Giry.” The young girl said suddenly, stopping at the start of the stairs; she could hear a crowd cheering for her, warming her heart and cheeks instantly. 

“For what, my dear?’

“For everything, I suppose.” Her answer was simple, but it was very much appreciated, adding a moment later, “will you send Meg when the crowd disperses?” 

Madame Giry nodded, “of course, my dear. Rest and get changed,” motioning to a modesty screen, Y/N walked over and let the older woman help her out of her heavy and colorful skirt. “There, now I'll go fetch Meg.”

Once Madame Giry left, Y/N looked at herself in the mirror, it felt like someone was in there, behind the looking glass. Reaching her hand out, she pressed her hand against the glass, most likely leaving a smudge. 

“ _Bravi, bravi, bravissimi..._ ” 

Angel?

“ _Y/N, Y/N..._ ” Meg’s voice called, starling the young singer, “ _where in the world have you been hiding?_ ” 

Pulling her hand away from the glass, she tried not looking as shocked as she was. Replacing her wide eyes with a smile, Y/N rushed over to hold her friend’s hands. 

“ _Really, you were perfect! I only wish I knew your secret, who is this new tutor?_ ”

Her angel wasn't someone new, so to speak, but she had never spoken a word of him to Meg, “ _father once spoke of an angel, I used to dream he'd appear. Now as I sing, I can sense him and I know he's here_!” She turned to face the mirror again, a smile playing on her lips, “ _here in this room, he calls me softly. Somewhere inside, hiding, somehow I know he's always with me. He, the unseen genius._ ”

Behind the mirror, in a dark stone hallway, her angel stood. His gloved hand was still on the glass where hers had been, his heart pounding against his chest, he had to see her tonight - to bring her down to his home.

Meg shook her head, not understanding what she meant, “ _Y/N, you must have been dreaming. Stories like this can't come true, Y/N, you're talking in riddles and it's not like you_!” 

Struck with a pang of confusion, Y/N looked at Meg. Was she doubting her angel, her Erik? Feeling slightly betrayed, she turned away, “ _Angel of Music, guide and guardian - grant to me your glory_!

“ _Who is this angel? This—_ ”

“ _Angel of Music, hide no longer! Secret and strange angel,_ ” the two girls sang in unison after Meg’s question, holding onto her arm, she pulled her attention away from the mirror. 

“He's with me even now,” Y/N spoke, their duet fading away into the night air.

“Your hands are cold!”

“All around me,” she continued, focusing on the carpeted ground. Meg’s eyes widened, the color seemed to drain away from her best friends face, “your face, Y/N, it's pale!”

“It frightens me.”

“Don't be frightened!” 

Y/N wrapped her arms around Meg, hugging her tightly, the young girl calmed herself - knowing her friend just didn't understand. She loved her angel dearly, and she supposed that she was scared he’d disappear if Meg didn’t believe in him either. “You must believe me, my father has sent an angel and he's helped me find my voice.” Pulling back, she looked at her friend seriously, her angel meant a lot to her.

“If you believe he's real, I believe it too.” 

§

Meanwhile on the other side of the door, Raoul made his way through the grand hallway, followed by the two excited managers. All three of them were in high spirits, actually, and Firmin was carrying a rather large bottle of champagne. 

Andre grinned, “a tour de force! No other way to describe it!”

“And what a relief, not a single refund!” Firmin added, glad his distress from earlier was all for nothing. 

“Richard, I think we've made quite a discovery in Miss Daaé!”

Firmin chuckled warmly, wagging his finger as if to chastise his business partner. Stopping once they were in front of Y/N’s dressing room door, he held his free arm out, “here we are, Monsieur le Vicomte.” 

“Gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind, this is one visit I should prefer to make unaccompanied.” Raoul finally spoke up, taking the champagne.

The two men bow respectfully at the Vicomte, “as you wish, Monsieur.” 

“They appear to have met before…” Firmin whispered while they walked away, though they knew it was best not to gossip about such a generous donor. 

Raoul gentle rapped on her door, entering a moment later when he heard a voice call out, saying he was free to come in. “Y/N Daaé, where is your scarf?”

Y/N, who was facing her vanity mirror, wrinkled her brow in confusion, “Monsieur?” 

“You couldn't have lost it. After all the trouble I went to, I was just twelve and soaked to the skin.”

Recognition washed over her face and she turned to look at him, “because you had run into the sea to fetch my scarf!” She stood up and let out a cry of happiness, “oh, Raoul. It is you!”

Raoul spoke her name under his breath, the two embrace and laugh like school children. She moved away and sat at her vanity again, holding his hand and keeping them in her lap.

“Little Lotte let her mind wander,” the man started recalling their old games, kneeling down beside her.

“You remember that too!” 

“Little Lotte thought, ‘am I fonder of dolls or of goblins, of shoes’?”

“‘Or of riddles, of frocks’?” Y/N continued on, smiling at their silly little trip down memory lane.

Raoul chuckled, “those picnics in the attic or of chocolates?”

“My father playing the violin…”

“As we read to each other dark stories of the North,” he added, the nostalgia flooding his heart. 

Shaking her head, another laugh was lifted from her lips, “‘no, what I love best,’ Lotte said, ‘is when I'm asleep in my bed _and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head’_!”

“ _The Angel of Music sings songs in my head’_.”

“You sang like an angel tonight,” Raoul complimented, kissing her knuckles tenderly. 

“Father said, ‘child, when I am in heaven, I shall send your angel to earth so he may watch over you in my absence’. Well, father is dead, Raoul, and I have been visited by the Angel of Music.”

“Oh, no doubt of it. And now we'll go to supper!”

brown eyes widened at him in shock, Y/N shook her head, “no, Raoul, the Angel of Music is very strict!” He wouldn't want her going out so late, especially not after her first performance. She needed to rest, just like Madame Giry said! 

“I shan't keep you up late!”

“No, Raoul.” She protested again, standing when he did. 

Ignoring her without really meaning to, he kept going, “you must change, I must get my hat. Two minutes, Little Lotte.” Letting go of her hands, he quickly made his way to the door, laughing until it closed behind him.

“Raoul, wait!” She called after him, stopping when the door shut in her face, “things have changed, Raoul!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note: I made Meg say 'your face is pale' instead of 'your face is white' because I want everyone to feel like our lovely ingénue. ♥️


	5. In all Your Fantasies I am the Mask You Wear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N finally sees her angel; is he all she could've hoped for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed some lyrics lol, here's what they mean.
> 
> Darling Diana; Instead of being a Delilah, which is pretty much a temptress - the Reader is a Diana, the Goddess of the Moon.
> 
> Amazing Aphrodite; Instead of being Pandora, a woman who let evil loose on Earth, the Reader is the Goddess of Love.

Once again, from behind the mirror, Erik’s blood began boiling, “ _Insolent boy! This slave of fashion, basking in your glory_!” He shouted, “ _ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph_!”

A gasp was drawn from her lips as she spun around, it felt like his voice was coming from everywhere, “angel, I hear! You speak, I listen. _Stay by my side, guide me_!” Y/N was absolutely spellbound by the voice of her angel; of course, she had heard him sing before but never with such emotion. Such anger. “ _Angel, my soul was weak - forgive me, enter at last, Master_!”

“ _Flattering child, you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide, look at your face in the mirror - I am there inside_!” A figure was slowly outlined in bright white light from behind the mirror, she couldn't make out any part of his face but she knew it was him, it had been his voice. 

“ _Angel of Music_!” Y/N sang excitedly, “ _guide and guardian; grant to me your glory_!” She drew closer to the piece of reflective glass, noticing that she could hardly see herself anymore. “ _Angel of Music, hide no longer! Come to me, strange angel..._ ”

The mirror slowly started to slide open, showing the young woman just how tall he was, “I am your Angel, come to me; _Angel of Music_.”

Walking towards the glowing, shimmering glass, she let out an amazed breath. She was almost hypnotized by his voice, and it felt like there was nothing else that mattered.

“Whose is that voice?” Raoul wiggled the doorknob, his own voice wavering, “who is that in there?!”

“I am your Angel of Music, come to me; _Angel of Music_.” The glass that stood between them had disappeared completely now and he held his gloved hand out to her, their shared desire seemed to thicken the air. 

Placing her hand in his, Erik pulled her body close, slamming the mirror closed behind her - making it appear as if no one had been there in the first place. 

The dressing room door suddenly unlocked, startling Raoul as he tripped through the swinging door, only to find it empty, “Y/N?! Angel!” 

The white light that bathed the two of them disappeared, regular candlelight was now surrounding them and for the first time she could see his face. He wore a white mask that covered the side of his handsome face, his black hair was slicked back and he wore a gentleman's coat. 

He hardly looked like the angels that were depicted in the chapel, he looked like a normal man, but perhaps that's what her father intended - so she wouldn't be frightened. Like she had told Meg before, talking to the disembodied voice of a man (however comforting he had been) was a little scary.

Erik started to lead her down the hall, quite literally pulling her from her thoughts. Without realizing it, the feeling of music started filling her soul. Could that be her imagination or was the whole orchestra playing underneath the opera house? Wherever the answer, Y/N began singing anyway, knowing he'd want to hear how her voice was coming along. “ _In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me and speaks my name, and do I dream again? For now I find, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind._ ”

“ _Sing once again with me, our strange duet._ ” Erik smirked, holding her in front of him once they neared a set of stairs, “ _my power over you grows stronger yet_.” Stepping in front of her, he bounced down a few more stairs, flourishing his cape behind him. 

Y/N became flustered by this and turned her head to the side, this didn't go unnoticed by her angel, “ _and though you turn from me to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind_.” Once Erik was at the bottom of the stairs, he hoisted Y/N into the air and spun her around. 

As he held her, she cupped his unmasked cheek, “ _those who have seen your face draw back in fear, I am the mask you wear_.”

“ _It's me they hear_.” He whispered, her slippered feet touching the ground again, “ _my spirit and_ —”

“ _My voice_!”

“ _In one combined_.” They sang together, walking until they stood beside a narrow lake; where a gondola was floating, “ _the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your_ —”

“ _—my—_.” 

“ _—mind_.” 

_He's there, the Phantom of the Opera! Beware, the Phantom of The Opera!_

Stepping into the small gondola, Erik held his hand out for her again, grasping it tightly when she held onto him without hesitation. Making sure the boat didn't tip as she sat down, he took hold of the row, “ _in all your fantasies, you always knew_...” Pushing off the dock, he started rowing, sending Y/N’s heart into a race, “...that man and mystery?” He coaxed, wondering what she'd say, after all - she thought he was an angel sent from above. 

“ _Were both in you_.”

Her answer sent him beaming as they started singing again, “ _and in this labyrinth where night is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is here inside your_ —”

“ _—my—_.” 

“ _—mind_.” 

Pushing the boat even further down the lake, he let out a delighted cry, “sing, my Angel of Music!” 

Y/N smiled at his enthusiasm, she thought he was absolutely beautiful and she never wanted to disappoint him; so she sang, “ _he's there, The Phantom of the Opera_!” Suddenly feeling confident, she started vocalizing randomly, not really thinking anything of it.

“Sing,” Erik coaxed again, his voice almost a whisper.

And so she did, her pitch getting higher. The sound of her own voice echoed off the stone walls, but she didn't think she could possibly sing any higher. 

“Sing for me!” 

Her eyes widened, he wanted her to keep going? Going up one more octave, she sang a straight note while gripping onto the sides of the gondola for support. 

Erik’s eyes softened, “sing, my angel of music!”

Hitting the same note again, her brows furrowed, maybe he wanted to test her. How high could she sing?

“ **Sing for me**!”

Singing the highest note she could imagine, Y/N was taken aback at the shocking sound of her own voice, the water underneath their feet rippled. It was from the boat, most definitely, but in that moment it felt like her voice had shaken all of Pairs. 

Erik hopped off the gondola, throwing the cape from his shoulders, “ _I have brought you to the seat of sweet music's throne. To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music, music._ ” He helped her onto solid ground again, her lacy robe dipping into the water for a quick moment. Thankfully, the train of her robe was long enough to where she didn't feel the wetness.

Well, even if she had felt it - she wouldn't have really _noticed it_ , like he was hypnotizing her. 

“ _You have come here for one purpose and one alone, since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me to serve me, to sing for my music; my music._ ” He caressed Y/N’s cheek, pulling her further into his dwelling. “ _Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation_ …” 

Something brand new filled the air, something that was much sweeter. Moving his hand away from her cheek, his fingers trailed down her arm before he was prepared to take her hand. All the courage inside him started bubbling to the surface and he sang, “ _darkness stirs and wakes imagination, silently the senses abandon their defenses._ ” Leading her up a few steps, he smiled, she was seeing him for the first time. He had to make it worth while, show her that her angel was real - he was real. 

While she was being serenaded, Y/N had the chance to look around at this newfound lair. 

“ _Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender._ ”

The lake they came in on was narrow and almost grim in color, like the whole hallway was in a brown-hued greyscale. Small chandeliers dangled above it, and the reflection was absolutely beautiful once the water stilled behind them. The chandeliers also appeared to mimic the giant one that was upstairs, the one that captured Y/N's heart the first day she arrived. 

“ _Turn your face away from the garish light of day! Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light…_ ”

The narrow part of the lake turned into a large pool, so large that she had no idea how deep the water in the pool was. However, the water wasn't clear enough for her to actually see anything anyway; she did wonder if any fish lived down there though. 

“ _...and listen to the music of the night._ ”

On the other side of the pool, there was a small wooden docking area, it was where the gondola was now. Beyond the dock, where her angel helped her stand again, there was a small mezzanine area. A velvet sofa and silken pillows scattered across the platform, along with stacks of paper - no, sheet music and since the platform was a little higher than the water, lace-frills were pinned across the base. 

“ _Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams, purge your thoughts of the life you knew before_!”

In fact, sheet music, lace, and velvet were everywhere and Y/N had to avoid stepping on things as she ascended the three stairs that lead up to a larger stage. This larger platform held a magnificent organ, its pipes reaching all the way up to the curved ceiling. 

“ _Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar_!”

To the right of the grand organ, a replica of the stage had been built. On the tiny little stage were two dolls, the female doll wore a colorful green and red dress; it looked like the very dress she had been wearing earlier that evening. The male doll wore a mask, which made her realize that these dolls were portraying her and her angel. 

Was this apart of her father's planning? It must've been, he had wanted her to be a star with the help of the angel he sent.

“ _And you'll live as you've never lived before…_ ” Erik lead her past the tiny stage and up a much more impressive set of stairs. “ _Softly, deftly, music shall surround you. Feel it, hear it closing in around you. Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind_!”

These stairs were more similar to the ones in the lobby of the opera house; wide with lots of walking area in between. It wasn't nearly as splendid as the one above them, yet she still thought it was breathtaking. 

“ _In this darkness which you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night_!”

Once they reached the top, she could see a lace canopy covering a rounded doorway, it was the same lace that was pinned to the bottom of the mezzanine. It really was thick enough to hide that there was no door separating them from this new room.

“ _Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world, leave all thoughts of the world you knew before_.”

This new room was a bedroom, at least, it looked like a bedroom. A mahogany writing desk seemed to be covered in the same sheet music as the sofa was; ink, wax, and fresh stacks of paper were also tucked away in the desk's corner. A wardrobe sat at the other end of the room, a large rug stretched across the floor, and yet again tulle hung from the ceiling - which was exceptionally lower in this room than in the ‘organ room’.

“ _Let your soul take you where you long to **be**_!”

La pièce da résistance, however, was a bed in the shape of a swan - the odd spectacle was cloaked in red velvet blankets and silken pillows of every other color. 

“ _Only then can you belong to me_ …” Erik finished his verse weakly, so much raw emotion bloomed in his chest as it seemed he finally had Y/N’s undivided attention again. 

Tucking his arm under her knees, he scooped her up off the ground and held her nearer to his chest, “ _floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation._ ” Kissing her forehead, his eyes fluttered closed when her hands reached up to caress both of his cheeks. “ _Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in! To the power of the music that I write…the power of the music of the night._ ” 

Not letting himself get carried away, Erik laid her back onto the swan bed, “ _you alone can make my song take flight._ ” Pulling away, he touched her knuckles gingerly, “ _help me make the music of the night._ ”

The tiredness suddenly hit Y/N like being smacked against a brick wall, she had sung her heart out in front of an audience only a few hours ago! And then again when she hit her highest note, how was she still awake?

“Sleep. You need your rest,” and he needed time to think of an explanation. He was not her father, he wasn't an angel from heaven, and he wasn't any Raoul de Chagny. He _had_ managed to enchant her though, which kept his hopes up.

Grabbing his gloved hands, she smiled sleepily, “good night, angel. Won't you get some sleep too?” 

“Perhaps later,” Erik replied, tucking her in, “now please, _rest_.” 

Deciding she was too tired to quarrel with him, the ingénue agreed, snuggling into the soft bedding that surrounded her. It was much more comfortable than her old cot, although she had never tried the diva's bed in her new dressing room. She couldn't imagine it being much better as she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, Erik, on the other hand, scampered off - the best night of his life was happening right before him! 

He needed to compose! Seated at his beautiful organ, he playing furiously, unable to focus on anything else - not that he needed to, his darling was sleeping. Divulging off occasionally to write down notes, time escaped him…

§

Beside the large swan bed, a music box began to play on its own. Opening her eyes slowly, Y/N could see a little monkey clapping two symbols together, as if it were a grandfather clock telling her to wake up. She remembered there was mist, swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake. There were candles all around and on the lake there was a boat and in the boat, there was a man.

Pushing the blankets to the side, she got off the large bed and made her way to the door covered in lace and beads. Peeking her head out she noticed her angel playing a funny little tune on his organ, walking down a few steps, Erik turned his hand - pretending to catch her, this only made her laugh. 

“ _Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask?_ ”

Y/N stepped up behind him and slowly caressed his shoulders, Erik was perfectly fine with wherever this went. At least, he thought he would be. Why else would his little songbird be touching him like this?

Her hands ghosted over his neck and went directly into his soft hair, earning a hearty chuckle from him, “ _hello you, you little darling Diana. You little angel, what are you doing to me_?”

His tone took a much softer turn when she didn't make a move to take off his mask, “ _kiss you? You little amazing Aphrodite, you little vixen. I wish you could always be with me._ ” Pulling her onto his lap, he smiled. 

This obviously made Y/N very happy, she cupped his cheeks and looked at him in complete wonderment. 

Sad to cut this moment short, Erik kissed her forehead once more, “come, we must return. Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you.”


	6. Kiss Me in His Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul comforts Y/N in the Phantom's absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, here's a birthday update from me!  
> Enjoy!!

Dear Andre,  
_What a charming gala! Y/N enjoyed a great success, we were hardly bereft when Carlotta left! Otherwise, the chorus was entrancing, but the dancing was a lamentable mess._

Dear Firmin,  
_Just a brief reminder; my salary has not been paid. Send it care of the Ghost by return of post, P.T.O., no one likes a debtor - so it's better if my orders are obeyed!_

Viscount de Chagny,  
_Do not fear for Miss Daaé, The Angel of Music has her under his wing, make no attempt to see her again._

Signora Giudicelli,  
_Your days at the Opéra Populaire are numbered, Y/N Daaé will be singing on your behalf tonight. Be prepared for a great misfortune should you attempt to take her place._

§

“Far too many notes for my taste and most of them about Y/N, all we've heard since we came is Miss Daaé’s name!” Firmin complained, he was following Andre closely as they marched down the stairs. Raoul and Carlotta were bickering amongst themselves not far behind the managers, though nothing important was going to come of it.

“Miss Daaé has returned.” Madame Giry announced once they were on the ground level, behind her, Meg stood. There was a nervous look on her youthful face, pinching it into something beyond her years.

“I trust her midnight oil is well and truly burned?” Andre questioned, using a handkerchief to wipe the excess sweat off his brow.

Firmin stepped in front of his partner, “where, precisely, is she now?” 

“She needed rest!” Meg answered, her burst echoing off the high walls.

“May I see her?” Raoul asked, walking down a few more steps. 

Frowning, the older woman shook her head at the Viscount, “no, Monsieur, she will see no one.”

“Will she sing?” Carlotta demanded, “will she sing?!” 

“Here,” Madame Giry said, holding out a folded piece of paper, the intricate wax seal already had been broken, “I have a note.”

“ **Let me see it**!” Everyone shouted in unison, holding their hands out expectantly. 

Firmin shook his head in annoyance, “please!” He added after the room fell silent, snatching the letter up, he began reading it aloud to everyone. 

_**Gentlemen, I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature detailing how my theater is to be run, you have not followed my instructions. I shall give you one last chance, Y/N Daaé has returned to you and I am anxious her career should progress in the new production of Il Muto.** _  
_**You will, therefore, cast Carlotta as the pageboy and put Miss Daaé in the role of Countess, the role which Miss Daaé plays calls for charm and appeal. The role of the pageboy is silent which makes my casting, in a word, ideal. I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in Box Five, which will be kept empty for me.** _  
_**Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur.** _  
_**I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant.** _  
_**— O.G.** _

“Y/N!” Carlotta huffed, stomping her foot, her heeled shoe clicking loudly - it was almost as if she had broken the marble floor underneath, “it's all a ploy to help Y/N, I know who sent this! The Viscount - her lover!” 

“This is insane!”

“Indeed?” Raoul asked sarcastically, addressing the others a moment later, “can you believe this?”

“Signora! This changes nothing, you are our star!” Andre began in protest, waving his hands around frantically, “Signora, we don't take orders!” 

“This is a joke, Signora, and always will be! The man is mad, Miss Daaé will be playing the pageboy - _the silent role_!”

“Carlotta will be playing the lead!” Andre added loudly, agreeing with Firmin’s previous statement. 

“ _It's useless trying to appease me! You're only saying this to please me, Signor, è vero? Non, non, non voglio udire! Lasciatemi morire! O padre mio! Dio!_ ” 

She tried making a run for it, but the two managers ran after her, stopping her at the building’s entrance; making sure she didn’t open the door. 

“Your public needs you!” 

“We need you, too!”

Carlotta scoffed, turning away from them so they wouldn't see her newfound smirk, “would you not rather have your precious little ingénue?” 

“ _Signora, no! The world wants you_ …”

Erik leaned against the wall, hiding in the darkened theater where he could listen, “so, it is to be war between us? If these demands are not met, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur…”

“ _Sing prima donna, once more_!”

§

The Il Muto overture started playing loudly; washing over the theater and hushing the audience, most of which wanted to see Y/N Daaé and hear her voice instead of La Carlotta’s. Most of them were excited to hear what else she could do, without her voice being drowned out by the rest of the chorus. Sadly, her role tonight would be completely silent.

“Gentlemen, if you would care to take your seats? I shall be sitting in Box Five,” Raoul said, patting Firmin’s shoulder. 

Andre shook his head, his eyes widening, “do you really think that's wise, Monsieur?”

Smirking, he soon faked a confused look, “my dear Andre, there would appear to be no seats available. Other than Box Five...”

“ _They say that this youth has set my Lady's heart aflame_!”

Raoul left the two managers as the performance began, entering the box numbered with a golden ‘5’. It didn't seem any more important than the other boxes, that gave him a rather large boost of confidence. 

“ _His Lordship, sure, would die of shock_!”

“ _His Lordship is a laughingstock_!” The second fop interjected. 

The ‘confidante’ waved her fan, “ _should he suspect her, God protect her_!”

“ _Shame! Shame! Shame! This faithless lady's bound for Hades! Shame! Shame! Shame_!”

A spotlight suddenly outlined Carlotta and Y/N; Carlotta wore a pink rococo styled dress, making her look like Marie Antoinette reincarnated, she was surprisingly very pretty - maybe it was because she wasn't speaking yet. 

Y/N, at the moment, was wearing a white vest detailed with pink, blue, green and yellow stripes. Her skirt was a basic white and two buttons were fastened in the back so it could be pulled away easily, she was _always_ very pretty. 

“Serafimo, your disguise is perfect!” Carlotta spoke as the Countess, gesturing to little Y/N in her stage costume, entertaining the large crowd before them. There was soon an artificial knock at an imaginary door, moving the scene forward flawlessly, “why, who can this be?” 

“Gentle wife, admit your loving husband!” Piangi as Don Attilio said, springing forward onto the stage, “my love, I am called to England on affairs of State _and must leave you with your new maid_.” 

Pretending to grab Y/N’s behind, he winked at the audience, “though, I would happily take the maid with me!”

Y/N in returned gasped as Serafimo, deciding to huff and stomp her foot, looking rather offended. 

Piangi laughed cluelessly, bounding away so he could hide behind a prop pillar. 

“The old fool is leaving!” Carlotta said loudly, causing everyone else to laugh as well, “ _Serafimo, away with this pretense_!” Pulling the white skirt away, a pair of blue breeches replacing them, “ _you cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence_!”

Leaning forward dramatically, Carlotta and Y/N pretend to kiss behind her frilly lace fan. After a moment the two pulled apart and the older woman began singing again, “ _poor fool, he makes me laugh! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Time I tried to get a better - better half_!”

Soon, the three actors from before (plus Piangi) peaked out from behind a curtain, “ _poor fool, he doesn't know! Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho! If he knew the truth, he'd never, ever go_!”

The whole stage began bouncing with excitement as the audience began to loosen up - ready for the darling comedy to continue. 

Only, that isn't what happened.

“ **Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty**?”

Confused glances and shocked gasps rose from every corner of the opera house, “it's him, my Angel of Music.”

Carlotta grimaced when Y/N spoke, “your part is silent, little toad!”

“ _A toad, madam? Perhaps it is you who are the toad_ …”

Straightening her large powder wig, Carlotta huffed and stormed off to the side of the stage, spraying some weird concocted juice into her mouth. 

Meg had always told Y/N that the perfume bottle contained the tears of forgotten ingénues, it was the first horror story she heard in the ballerina’s changing room.

Smiling when she returned to center stage, the Spanish woman motioned to the maestro and the music started again, “ _Serafimo, away with this pretense_!” 

Looking around in confusion, Y/N jumped as if her skirt had been taken off - even though her skirt was halfway across the stage, already long forgotten.

“ _You cannot speak, but kiss me in my_ —!” A sudden croak came from the back of Carlotta’s throat, everything stilled before the audience simpered quietly, almost awkwardly.

What was going on?

Not yet mortified, the diva pulled Y/N back over to the prop bed, “poor fool, he makes me laugh… _ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha_ —” as her voice got higher, the croaks got louder, that's when the audience started really laughing. 

“Behold! She is singing to bring down the chandelier!”

The chandelier itself shook wildly, the candles within flickering with its swaying movements. The performers scattered off the stage, though the expensive lighting system itself didn’t fall. Firmin, seeing this, ran out in front of the large red curtains that had been pulled down in a panic; tugging Andre along with him, “ladies and gentlemen, the performance will continue in ten minutes time!” Stuttering for a moment, he reached back and grabbed onto Y/N’s arm, “when the role of the Countess will be sung by Miss Y/N Daaé!”

“In the meantime,” Andre bellowed, sweating profusely, “ladies and gentlemen, we shall be giving you the ballet from act three of tonight's opera. Maestro - the ballet, **now**!”

An instrumental interlude began, a few ladies from the ballet came bouncing out as Y/N was ushered backstage. 

“Carlotta’s dress wouldn't fit you, I don't think she's in the building anyway,” Madame Giry told the young woman, fastening a large lilac skirt to an embroidered white bodice. 

Y/N sighed in a melancholic manner, “I can't help but feel bad, she's been the opera’s leading soprano for so many seasons before me.” 

“Well, yes, but don't you think others deserve a chance? She can't be France’s leading lady forever.” 

Y/N supposed Madame Giry had a point, she was about to say something else when someone let out a sharp scream. Jumping up, the young woman raced through the backstage halls, all the way to the stage.

She found Joseph Buquet hanging by a rope in front of everyone, stumbling back in terror, she called out weakly, “ _Erik_ …” But her angel was nowhere to be found, so when her eyes met her childhood friends, she cried out for him, “Raoul? Raoul!” Running into his arms, her pink and teal cloak flowing behind her before wrapping around Raoul’s legs at her abrupt stop, “come on, come on!” 

Raoul looked at her with wide eyes, absolute bewilderment was written across his face, but he followed her nonetheless. He became even more confused when she started leading him to the roof, “ _why have you brought me here_?”

“We can’t go back there!”

“We must return!” Raoul told her, trying to pull her back down the stairs.

“He'll kill you!” She cried, believe it for a split second, “his eyes will find _you_ there!” 

“Y/N, don't say that - _don't even think it_!”

She felt her heartache, the Phantom wasn't her angel, they couldn't have been the same person, “ _and if he has to kill a thousand men_ …”

“Forget this waking nightmare!” He tried, begging her to take her mind off it. He held her, not wanting her to slip on any of the ice that had started to form. The roof was collecting more and more snow and, oh God, she was so close to the edge! 

Raoul’s poor heart couldn't take this worrying!

“ _The Phantom of the Opera will kill and kill again! My God, who is this man, who hunts to kill_?” Her head filled with the thought of the man who held her in his arms the night before; **he could not have been her angel**! 

“My God, who is this man? _This mask of death…whose is this voice you hear, with every breath_?”

Y/N avoided Raoul by swinging around a large statue that could be seen from the ground, however, this did not stop him from following her around it, “ _and in this labyrinth where night is blind The Phantom of the Opera is here_ …” The two would have finish together if Y/N hadn't shaken her head and gripped onto the young man's coat, startling him quite a bit, “ _inside my mind_.”

“This Phantom is a fable, believe me, _there is no Phantom of the Opera_.” He tried reasoning with her again, but his words only proved that he had no idea whom they were dealing with.

Y/N was far more terrified of his underworld than the man himself, her angel had been nothing but sweet to her. In fact, he hardly laid a finger on her in all the years that she had known him. Which is why she needed to tell him the truth, “ _Raoul, I've been there, to his world of unending night! To a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness_.”

Throwing her head to the side in a forlorned manner, she cried out, “ _Raoul, I've seen him_! I never want to forget that sight! He was…” oh, Raoul, “ _his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound. In that night, there was music in my mind and through music, my soul began to **soar**! And I heard as I'd never heard before_ …”

“What you heard was a dream and nothing more,” his whisper simply went unnoticed by her, it was as if he said nothing at all.

Her angel's eyes, his beautiful eyes held all the sadness of the world - those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore.

“Y/N, Y/N…” Raoul drew closer to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. 

The Phantom’s voice chimed in softly, like a whisper that only she could hear, “... _Y/N_.”

“What was that?” She gasped, practically clinging onto Raoul from her sudden fear.

The poor young man held her, he hadn't heard anything and he doubted she had either, but he knew to say that aloud would upset her. 

As he held her, the snow around them began raining down harder, there was no better time to tell her how he felt - tell her that he wanted to keep her safe, “ _no more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you_...” 

Y/N’s head anchored upward, looking into his eyes. This was almost like the first time they'd met, the temperature was the same anyway.

“ _Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears! I'm here, with you, beside you; to guard you and to guide you_.” 

“Say you love me every waking moment, turn my head with talk of summertime. _Say you need me with you now and always, promise me that all you say is true. That's all I ask of you,_ ” Y/N didn't want to lead the man on, but she thought perhaps being with Raoul wouldn't be so bad.

“ _Let me be your shelter, let me be your light. You're safe, no one will find you, your fears are far behind you_.”

“ _All I want is freedom, a world with no more night_ ,” she responded, realizing the he was protecting her from all that she feared, “ _and you, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me_!”

“ _Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime! Let me lead you from your solitude, say you need me with you here, beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too. Y/N, that's all I ask of you_!”

Her heart sunk and leaped all at once, well, “ _say you love me_ …”

“You know _I do_.”

Dancing together as one, Y/N smiled, and then together they sang; “ _love me, that's all I ask of you_!”

Feeling as though this was an invitation, Raoul hoisted Y/N into the air and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. It was quite the romantic gesture, and maybe that was okay. 

She cared for Raoul, that much was true. Plus, with all this stir in the opera house - he could take her somewhere where no one could harm her, just like he promised. She knew Erik wouldn't hurt her, but maybe it was safer with Raoul right now. 

“ _Anywhere you go, let me go too. Love me, that's all I ask of you_!”

The snow that had been falling around them slowed to a stop and Y/N laughed, “I must go, they'll wonder where I am. Come with me, Raoul!” 

“Y/N, _I love you_!”

She took his hands in hers, “ _order your fine horses, be with them at the door_!” 

“And soon, you'll be beside me!”

She could tell how happy he was, yes, this had to have been the right choice, “ _you'll guard me and you'll guide me_.”

As the two bounded back inside, the Phantom left his hiding space from behind the giant snow-covered statue. Wringing his hands together, he sighed heavily, “I gave you my music, made your song take wing… _and now, how you've repaid me; denied me and betrayed me_.” No, it wasn’t her fault! It was the fop, “ _he was bound to love you when he heard you sing_...”

Y/N, _oh Y/N_ …

Clenching his fists, Erik flung his cloak back dramatically, “ _he will curse the day he decided to do_ , **all that the Phantom asked of you**!”


	7. The Merry-go-Round in an Inhuman Race

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masquerade! It's been nearly a year since Y/N's seen Erik, the opera house almost seemed normal.  
> Almost.

“Monsieur Firmin?” Andre bounded towards his friend and partner, a beautifully crafted mask covering the upper half of his face. 

“Monsieur Andre?” Firmin responded, bounding back towards him, a fine mask also covering the right half his face.

Removing their masks at the same time, they laughed and hooked their arms together, doing a little dance to express their joy.

“ _Dear Andre, what a splendid party_!”

“ _The prologue to a bright new year_!” Andre agreed, clicking his heel.

Firmin laughed and followed suit in the cheerful heel-clicking, turning it into another little dance, “ _quite a night, I'm impressed_.”

“ _Well, one does one's best_!”

The two gentlemen raised their masks as if to clink drinks, noticing their mistake they both chuckle and grabbed two bubbly drinks, “ _here's to us_!”

“ _The toast of all the city, such a pity that the Phantom can't be here_!” Firmin cheered, opening the doors to the opera house; giddy that the man who had been tormenting them was gone. 

Well, gone as far as they knew.

As the door opened, a flood of Parisian’s upper class danced down the grand staircase. Among the guests, there are two men carrying strange percussion instruments and wearing even stranger masks; a monkey with cymbals and a toy soldier with a drum. 

Together, the two oddities began playing for the dancers and in turn, they sang for the players, “ _masquerade! Paper faces on parade, masquerade! Hide your face, so the world will never find you_!”

It had been almost half a year since anyone had seen the mysterious Phantom, and that included miss Y/N Daaé. She desperately tried to get his attention numerous times, but it was all for nothing - it was like he was ignoring her.

“ _Masquerade! Every face a different shade, masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you_!”

Of course, she had no idea why he would do this to her. After all, the angel had stolen her heart all those months ago! Raoul had very slowly been filling that hole in her chest, however.

“ _Flash of mauve, splash of puce, fool and king, ghoul and goose. Green and black, queen and priest, trace of rouge, face of beast; faces_!”

Day by day, Raoul had been making her soul soar like Erik once had.

“ _Take your turn, take a ride on the merry-go-round in an inhuman race! Thigh of blue, true is false, who is who? Curl of lip, swirl of gown, ace of hearts, face of clown! Faces! Drink it in, drink it up - till you've drowned in the light, in the sound_...”

“ _But who can name the face_?” Y/N and Raoul sang together, their arms locked and their fingers intertwined, giving everyone a wonderful view of their elaborate costumes. 

Y/N wore a brilliant gown, stopping just above her ankles; the sleeves hung off her shoulders, they were made up of blue and purple ruffles with small silver stars sewn in between the many layers. Lower down the bodice, the purple turned into a dark pink, and as the corset neared its end - a lighter, softer pink. The whole thing was covered in stars, but as the skirt flowed outward, the stars stuck to neat rows on a light pink and white background. On a glitter covered wand was a white mask covered in stars, completing her lovely outfit nicely.

“ _Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds, masquerade! Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you_!”

Raoul wore a black suit with golden buttons and thread, it was all distinctly French, with a cape keeping his shoulder flourished. Funnily enough, he wore no mask at the _masked_ ball.

“ _Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads, masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you! Masquerade! Seething shadows, breathing lies, masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you! Masquerade! Leering satyrs, peering eyes, masquerade! Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you_!”

Six new figures emerged from the top of the grand staircase; Andre, Firmin, Meg, Madame Giry, Piangi, and La Carlotta. Each held a bubbling glass of champagne, and Madame Giry soon addressed them while sweeping her long braid behind her shoulder, “what a night!” 

“What a crowd,” Meg added, staying close to her mother.

Andre clapped Firmin’s back, “makes you glad.”

“Makes you proud of all the crème de la crème.” He added to his partners statement, watching the incoming traffic of dancing people.

“Watching us and watching them!” Carlotta observed, smiling as if she really were proud of all the opera house had done.

The two Giry’s finally linked arms, “and all our fears are in the past!”

“Six months...” Andre starts, though he can't decide where to begin, so much had occurred in the months passed!

Which meant Piangi had to pick up, “...of relief…”

“...of delight…” if Piangi was going to add something to the manager's delight, Carlotta would too.

“... _of Elysian peace_!” Andre and Firmin finished, and that was the best way to describe it.

“ _And we can breathe at last_!” Meg cheered, bouncing away from her mother by twirling to the group of ballerinas.

“No more notes!” Carlotta sighed happily, keeping the rounds going, Meg leaving the group or not.

Piangi chortled, “and no more ghost.”

“Here's a health!”

“Here's a toast to a prosperous year!” One of the two managers rang out.

Followed by the other one saying, “to the bright chandelier!”

“ _And may our splendor never fade_!” 

“Six months!” Firmin said, paralleling his partner’s earlier words. 

“What a joy!”

“What a change,” Meg reappeared, placing her empty glass on a masked man’s tray, only to pick up a full one. 

“ _What a blessed release_!”

“ _And what a masquerade_!”

They all tapped their glasses together, dispersing afterward so they could mingle with the guests. Many of which had never gotten the chance to meet the cast and crew of the Opera Populaire. 

Raoul grinned, watching Y/N admire her new acquisition; a golden engagement ring, which she had fastened to a chain that was now around her neck, “think of it, _a secret engagement. Look, your future bride! Just think of it_ …”

“But why is secret?” Raoul questioned with a sudden pout, “ _what have we to hide_?”

“ _Please let's not fight, wait till the time is right_.”

“ _It is an engagement, not a crime_. Y/N, what are you afraid of?”

She wasn't afraid of anything, not anything specific, that is. However, she didn't want Erik to see the ring around her neck, “let's not argue.”

“ _Let's not argue…I can only hope I'll understand in time_.”

“ _You will understand in time_!” Y/N ran off, though Raoul followed closely behind her. He was still terribly wary of this Phantom, not because there was a threat of his fiancée being hurt - but because he feared he'd steal her away. Raoul didn't believe himself to be a jealous man, but this angel she had been obsessed with had been haunting him in the back of his mind like a ghost. However, the Viscount didn't believe in this mystical man, so why was he so bothered? 

“ _Masquerade! Paper faces on parade, masquerade! Hide your face, so the world will never find you! Masquerade! Every face a different shade, masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you_!”

The gathering was nowhere close to winding down. In fact, if they weren't careful, the opera house might convert all of France into night owls.

“ _Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads - masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you! Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds, masquerade! Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you_!”

Just as the party was about to reach its height, a grotesque figure suddenly appeared at the top of the magnificent staircase, his presence almost dwindling the beauty of the architecture. He was dressed all in crimson, with a death’s head visible inside the hood of his long robe, _the Phantom of the Opera_. 

With dreadfully bouncy steps, he descended the stairs and took center stage for himself, “ _why so silent, good Messieurs_?”

Everyone took a step back, everyone except Y/N. Her eyes were wide and her heart was racing, he was back! He was back?

“ _Did you think that I had left you for good? Have you missed me, good Messieurs? I have written you an opera,_ ” he took an enormous bound manuscript out from under his robe, “ _here I bring the finished score, **Don Juan Triumphant**_!” He throw it down and then unsheathed his sword, brandishing it towards the crowd of bystanders.

His cadence suddenly changed, “ _fondest greetings to you all! A few instructions just before rehearsal starts; Carlotta must be taught to act, not her normal trick of strutting around the stage_.”

La Carlotta watched on in outraged, but her inner fear spoke much louder - keeping her silent. 

“ _Our Don Juan must lose some weight - it's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age_ …”

Piangi was a lot braver as he made a move to lunge forward, but Carlotta held him back, whispering something along the lines of, ‘no, my love, let it be.’

Turning his sword away from the actors and toward Andre and Firmin, Erik continued, “ _and my managers must learn that their place is in an office, not the arts_!” 

The two men made no move to attack him, but they also made no move to run away. They were frozen in place with the rest of the gentry, Erik supposed he couldn't blame them - he sword _was_ very sharp. Nevertheless, he did gently tuck his sword away for the next target, “as for our star, Miss Y/N Daaé…”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, she so wanted to run into his arms, but the death head he adorned...it petrified her in place. She couldn't run to him, couldn’t fall into his dotting arms. She couldn’t run away from him either, into Raoul's loving arms.

“ _No doubt she'll do her best, it's true, her voice is good. She knows, though, should she wish to excel she has much still to learn_!” His robe was swept to the side, but he made no other movements - he could tell she was scared, “ _if pride will let her return to me, her teacher. Her teacher_ …” 

She felt the presence next to her leave. Raoul was leaving her side; why? Did he believe she could stand up to the angel on her own? He was probably right in thinking that, but in truth, he was temporarily stepping away to grabbed his rapier. Should there actually be a fight, he needed to make sure he could keep her safe.

Without her fiancé beside her, Y/N took timid steps toward him. She had missed him, what else could she do?!

However, it seemed the sentiment wasn't shared, Erik stretched his hand out and grasped the chain that held the secret engagement ring. Realizing what it was, his face twisted into that of a man who had been tortured. In a flash of anger, he ripped the jewelry from her throat, “ _your chains are still mine! **You will sing for me**_!”

§

Andre stomped down the staircase towards Firmin, a flush of annoyance covering the apples of his cheeks, “ludicrous! Have you seen the score?”

“Simply ludicrous!” Firmin concurred, waving _yet another_ note in the air, it being addressed to specifically to him.

“It's the final straw!” Andre too had a note, along with the full score of Don Juan. 

The opera was for the gentry of France, this production was far too explicit for the aristocratic men and women with a taste for the finer things in life!

“This is lunacy! Well, you know my views…” 

“…Utter lunacy!”

“But we daren't refuse!” Firmin reminded him again, they had no choice!

And Andre knew exactly why, “not another chandelier…” the shaking was enough to scare patrons away and that meant lower ticket sales ( _which meant less money_ )! 

Firmin took the crook of his companions arm, showing him the note, “look, my friend, what we have here…”

Dear Andre,  
_Re my orchestrations; we need another first bassoon, get a player with tone - and that third trombone has to go! The man could not be deafer, so please preferably one who plays in tune_!

Dear Firmin,  
_Vis a vis my opera; some chorus members must be sacked. If you could, find out which has a sense of pitch! Wisely, though I've managed to assign a rather minor role to those who cannot act!_

“ **Outrage**!” Carlotta screamed as she entered the main entryway, Piangi followed closely behind - fuming as much as his precious diva was. 

“What is it now?” Firmin asked in an exasperated manner, the ghost was back and on top of that he had to deal with Carlotta and her puppy they called a tenor? 

Obviously not caring about her managers, she scoffed, “this whole affair is an outrage!”

Andre gasped, “Signora, please!” 

What if the ghost heard her?

“Now, what's the matter?” Firmin asked, there had to be a reason for the prima donna’s unnecessary outburst.

“Have you seen the size of my part?” She demanded, waving around her own copy of the score (they had to make so many copies of that damn thing). 

“Signora, listen—”

Andre wasn't able to finish, Piangi was already butting his way into the conversation by shouting, “it's an insult!”

“Not you as well!” Firmin cried, he had been hoping that their leading man would've been satisfied. His part was the same size as the one in Hannibal, after all. Though, now that the manager thought about it - he may not have liked the idea of seducing the young miss, Y/N.

“Just look at this, it's an insult!”

“Please understand,” Firmin rubbed his temples, trying to soothe the headache that was coming on.

Andre could see his partner struggling and frankly, he was too, “Signor! Signora!”

“The things I have to do for my art.” Carlotta cursed, turning on her heels as if she were ready to leave. 

Piangi quickly replied with, “if you can call this gibberish ‘art’.”

Glimpsing skyward, toward the heavens, Carlotta’s ‘outraged’ outer appearance melted into something smugger, “ah, here's our little flower!”

Y/N had entered the grand hall with a troubled look on her face, studying the room, she realized she had made a horrible mistake a few seconds too late. 

Despite her horrified expression, Firmin’s eyes lit up, “ah, Miss Daaé, quite the lady of the hour!” She had become Firmin and Andre’s new best friend, she was the Phantom’s favorite performer, after all. If they mistreated her, what would happen to them?

Something unpleasant, they were convinced.

She didn't believe this to be true though; after their moment at the masked ball, she couldn't understand why Erik would still have any feelings for her. 

After nearly a year, he showed up to draw her back in with a new opera - then promptly tore the engagement ring off her neck.

It left a sour taste in her mouth and her heart was completely shattered.

“You have secured the largest role in this ‘ _Don Juan_ ’,” Andre added soon after her thoughts had ended.

Wait, really? For a moment, Y/N’s heart soared. Erik wanted her to have the leading role in his new score? 

But Carlotta just had to ruin everything for her, “Y/N Daaé? She doesn't have the voice!”

Didn't have the voice? She was one to talk!

“Signora, please!” Firmin tried keeping the peace, though even he knew how useless that was. Two prima donna’s in the same room! Even if one was distinctly more of a diva than the other, it was dangerous territory. 

Raoul scoffed, forever on the same page as his fiancée, “then I take it you're agreeing?” 

“She's behind this…” Carlotta continued.

Andre leaned against the railing of the staircase, “it appears we have no choice.”

“ _She's the one behind this! Y/N Daaé_!”

That was the final straw, “ _how dare you_?!”

“I'm not a fool!”

“ _You evil woman! How dare you_?” Carlotta had been nothing but rude to Y/N, even when she had been a simple chorus girl! There was no reason for it, it was a single show. A show the Spanish woman didn’t even like! 

“You think I'm blind?”

“This isn't my fault! I don't want any part in this plot!” She hadn't requested for Erik to give her the leading role, in fact, this Don Juan was terribly scandalous. She normally didn't play in such things, she felt too girlish to play a blossoming woman with a strange sexual hunger.

“Miss Daaé, surely…” Firmin begged, they couldn't cast Carlotta as the lead again!

Andre, like his partner, took to whining and begging, “ _but why not_?”

“What does she say?” Piangi asked, he clearly hadn't been paying attention after being told they had no other choice.

Firmin bounded towards her, “ _it's your decision, but why not_?”

Y/N backed away, wishing her managers wouldn’t be so frantic about this; she could probably speak with her angel about the casting! _If he'd have her_.

“She's backing out!” Carlotta answered Piangi.

Andre stopped whining abruptly and became more demanding, “you have a duty!”

Y/N turned to face Andre head on, “I cannot sing it! _Duty or not_ …”

“ _Y/N, Y/N_ …” Raoul made his way over to the small group so he could be at her side, ending the two’s standoff. He hadn't actually seen what Andre did or had done, but he had heard enough to understand the topic was more serious than his love let on, “ _you don't have to, they can't make you_ …”

Kissing her forehead, Raoul eased the one he held dear, “here, sit on the step.” With his jacket around her, he continued to the discussion with the others, “ _we have all been blind and yet the answer is staring us in the face! This could be the chance to ensnare our clever friend_.”

“We're listening!”

“Go on!”

“ _We shall play his game. Perform his work, but remember we hold the ace. For, if Miss Daaé sings, he is certain to attend_!”

“We make certain the doors are barred!” Andre added quickly.

“We make certain our men are there!” Firmin followed.

“We make certain they're armed!” And Raoul finished.

The three looked at each other and grinned, “ _the curtain falls, his reign will end_!”

Chaotic rambling, began beating against Y/N’s eardrums, to the point where she couldn't make out who was saying what. Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt she couldn't hold back anymore, “ _if you don't stop, I'll go **mad**_!”

“She _is_ mad…” Carlotta gasped, stepping closer to Piangi. 

Raoul rushed back to her side and drew her up into his arms, “ _Y/N, Y/N, don't think that I don't care, but every hope and every prayer rests on you now_ …”

Y/N hid her face away, it was absolutely darling - but it boiled Raoul’s blood, “so, it is to be war between us? But this time, clever friend, the disaster will be yours.”

§

Playing a few notes on the piano, Monsieur Reyer captures the attention of everyone at rehearsal, “Don Juan; Signor Piangi, here is the phrase: ‘ _those who tangle with Don Juan…_ ’! If you please?”

Y/N stood off to the side, deciding not to gather around the piano like everybody else. She was wearing a new dress Raoul had gotten for her, it was a deep blue, with a white embroidered Peter Pan collar. Golden flowers laced through the rest of the dress, the white being saved for the accenting of the skirt.

She thought it all very expensive, almost too grand for her, but she couldn't turn down such a beautiful gift! Especially not one from Raoul, her dear childhood sweetheart, he had been extra kind to her these past few days. 

Piangi, in the time Y/N had taken for her thoughts, straightened up and sang, “ _those who tangle with Don Juan_!” His accent was far too thick for the sentence, but it would’ve been perfect for Erik. His voice would've really suited Don Juan, or so the young Daaé thought.

Reyer shook his head, “no, no. Nearly, but no. ‘ _Those who tan–tan–tan–_ ’…” 

“ _Those who tangle with Don Juan_!”

“His way is better, at least he makes it sound like music!” Carlotta insulted the work, it was obvious no one was enjoying this rehearsal, but she was making it even more unbearable.

Madame Giry furrowed her eyebrows, “Signora, would you speak that way in the presence of the composer?” 

Y/N wouldn't have, even if she shared the diva’s opinion, she'd be too afraid of hurting Erik's feelings. 

“The composer is not here! And if he were here, I would say—” 

“Are you certain of that, Signora?”

The room went silent. Ever since the masked ball, the ghost had been the subject on everyone’s tongue, and it was clear that he was the composer.

Reyer cleared his throat, “so…once again…after seven! _Five, six, seven_!” 

Sighing, Piangi began again, “ _ **those who tangle with Don Juan**_!”

The assemble groaned in unison, he was not changing anything about the pronunciation! How were they supposed to get through the whole score if they couldn't get through one line? 

“Ah, piu non posso! No one will know if it is right or wrong, no one will care!”

Just when Y/N thought she had escaped the loud ramblings of the opera's staff, it had begun all over again! 

Carlotta noticed this too and she wasn't one to be silenced or drowned out, so instead, she shrieked, “ _those who tangle with Don Juan_!” 

Without explanation the piano started playing on its own, causing Monsieur Reyer to jump out of his skin, nearly knocking over his velvet cushioned stool along the way. 

Y/N startled as well, absolutely terrified of the pianoforte that appeared to have a mind of its own. 

However, no one else seemed to reel back, they looked as if they had all been put in a trance…

“ _Poor young maiden! For the thrill on your tongue of stolen sweets, you will have to pay the bill tangled in the winding sheets_!” 

Carefully hopping down toward the orchestra pit, Y/N made her way out of the opera house and into the crisp winter air. She grabbed her cloak, it matched her dress, for the most part, the only difference being that the inside was lined with red wool.

Racing to a nearby carriage driver, she called out, “Monsieur, please! Will you take me to the cemetery, just south of here!” Dropping a small pouch of coins into the man's open palm, she was met with a nod and an ungloved hand helping her into the enclosed carriage. 

After she closed the door, there was a slight jostle before they started moving, but with no windows that could let her see the driver, she couldn't tell what was happening. 

Trying to put her mind at ease, she drew back the silk curtains at her side, “ _in sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me and speaks my name_ …”

Church bells tolled in the distance, letting her know that they had arrived. Opening the door for herself, she was met with the drive again, his face downcast as he held out a gloved hand. 

“Thank you.”


	8. Teach Me to Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why the sudden change in Y/N's driver?  
> But more importantly, what would Gustave do?

Her hand slipped from the driver’s, it took all her strength not to get back into the warm carriage and tell the kind (albeit suddenly taller) man to take her back to the opera house. 

Was she brave enough to face her father after all these years? 

Did she even want to visit the tomb in the first place?

She knew what this journey meant, what she'd have to do once they were face to face, “ _you were once my one companion, you were all that mattered_ …”

Again, a fresh blanket of snow started fluttering down on France's winter-bound body, sticking to the frozen dirt that lay just beneath the high tops of the bare trees. 

Hiding her hands away in her cloak, Y/N shivered, “ _you were once a friend and father, then my world was shattered_.”

Gustave Daaé, what a wonderful man he had been. 

Y/N remembered him fondly. 

He only wanted the best for her, that's why she was apart of the opera. It was why she wasn't on some street corner in the middle of her homeland, Sweden.

However, she couldn't deny how much she hated the world for taking her father so soon, “ _wishing you were somehow here again, wishing you were somehow near_!”

Turning the carriage around, Erik (who had recently become Y/N’s new driver), sent the horses back down the road to the opera house. He was certain they'd know the way back, they were smart creatures - creatures that he adored when he was younger. Squeezing the hand that Y/N had touched, he shook the thoughts from his head and entered the graveyard, keeping a safe distance between the two of them. 

He made sure he could still hear her voice, despite his better judgment. Erik had known her voice was beautiful from the start, even before it was trained by him, but hearing her sing with such emotion threatened to put him under a spell. 

“ _Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here_ …”

…he was unable to keep his beating heart still!

“ _Wishing I could hear your voice again, knowing that I never would. Dreaming of you would help me to do all that you dreamed I could_!”

Erik had never met Gustave Daaé, but Madame Giry had. When asking about him, Giry simply said that he was a kind man with a young daughter. 

He had no idea just how invested he'd become in that random man’s child, how much he'd come to love her…

“ _Passing bells and sculpted angels, (cold and monumental), seemed for you the wrong companion - you were warm and gentle_.”

Slowing his movements, he shuffled closer to the gate surrounding the perimeter of the cemetery, wanting to pass her so he could enter Gustave’s mausoleum unseen. 

“ _Too many years fighting back tears, why can't the past just die_!” Spinning sharply on the points of her toes, Y/N’s cloak and dress flowed gracefully in her wake, “ _wishing you were somehow here again! Knowing we must say goodbye_ …”

Slipping behind the decorated door, the Phantom hid away, quietly listening to his Angel’s grief-filled ballad. Peeking through a small frosted window, he saw her fall at the foot of the stone stairs. His heart ached for her, but he knew he had to wait before making himself known. 

“ _Try to forgive, teach me to live, or give me the strength to try_!” Singing at the carved name set in stone, she held her head up high, “ _no more memories, no more silent tears, no more gazing across the wasted years_ …” 

Taking a deep breath, she stood back up, wiping the snow from her blue dress, “help me say goodbye…” 

And touching her father’s name, she smiled weakly, “ _help me say goodbye_!”

Waiting for a few beats, Erik listened to the snows wet plop before he opened his mouth again, “ _wandering child so lost, so helpless. Yearning for my guidance_ ,” his voice was soft, part of him didn't want her to notice him and the other was craving for her attention all over again.

Bewildered and somewhat distraught, Y/N looked toward the frosted glass separating her from her deceased father. “ _Angel or father_?” She murmured, “ _friend or phantom_?” Was there a difference between those two? She wanted him to be her friend, but her mind recalled the disturbance from the masked ball and played it on repeat, “ _who is it there, staring_?”

Turning his body so his back was no longer against the stone wall, he sang again, “ _have you forgotten your Angel_?”

Taken aback, she took a step closer, “ _Angel, oh! Speak! What endless longings echo in this whisper_?” 

Outside the gates, subtle puffs of warm air fell from Raoul’s lips as he entered the cemetery, his horse gently clopping behind him. At first, he didn't know where to look, but his head snapped up when he heard voices. 

“ _Too long you've wandered in winter_ …” His voice drew Y/N closer like it always had, he would forever hypnotize that poor girl. 

Raoul furrowed his eyebrows before murmuring to himself, “once again, she is his.”

“ _Far from my far-reaching gaze_.”

“Once again, she returns!” The Viscount growled, picking up the pace, he knew exactly where they were now.

Increasingly mesmerized, Y/N reached the top of the shallow set of stairs, but she didn't make a move to go forward, “ _wildly, my mind beats against you_!”

“You resist, _yet your_ —”

“— _the soul obeys_!” Y/N sang with him, her heart starting to beat faster as she inched closer.

Raoul growled, “to the arms of her Angel; angel or demon? _Still he calls her, luring her back from the grave, angel or dark seducer? Who are you, strange Angel_?”

“ _Angel of Music! You_ —”

“— _I denied you_!”

"— _me_!"

Once again, they were brought together, “ _turning from true beauty_!” 

“ _Angel of Music! Do not shun me_ …”

“ _My protector_!”

“ _Come to me strange Angel_!”

Y/N finally took a larger step causing Gustave’s mausoleum to light up a magnificent white, as if the opera’s chandler were just inside. 

Smiling to himself, Erik started to sing a familiar tune, “I am your Angel of Music. _Come to me, Angel of Music_ …” 

“Angel of darkness, cease this torment!” Raoul called out, beginning to run.

“I am your Angel of Music. _Come to me, Angel of Music_ …”

In the nick of time, Raoul emerged, the snow crunching beneath his feet. However, it didn't alert either his fiancée or her Angel. Calling out to her in desperation, he pulled out his rapier, “Y/N! Y/N, listen to me! Whatever you may believe, this man - _this thing_ \- is not your father!” But she didn’t even move! Heart racing, he cried out again, “let her go! For God's sake, _let her go_! Y/N!”

Coming out of her trance Y/N turned toward the voice of this newcomer, “Raoul?” 

It was Erik’s turn to growl, “bravo, Monsieur, such spirited words!” Climbing up to the roof, he waited for the ignorant fool to continue his disgustingly boastful behavior.

As he did this, the light from inside dimmed and Raoul smirked, “no more tricks, Monsieur?”

Having enough of this, the Phantom jumped down from the low roof with his sword in hand. Swiping the blade under Raoul’s boot, he knocked the younger man toward the slush. 

Raoul grunted as he hit the earth, but he was quick to get back up, seemingly ready for the impending fight.

Taking the first swing, Erik was able to make him stumble back, “bravo, Monsieur, you've figured out my secret! Let's see, Monsieur, how far you dare go!”

Y/N stepped back, clinging to the wall of her father’s mausoleum, there was nothing she could do! She had no sword, and even if she did, she wouldn't know how to use it or which man to use it on.

Fighting around the scattered tombstones, the two men appeared to be locked in a battle for more than her hand. It was as if they were fighting to prove to themselves that they were worthy of her heart, something they both thought they had.

“Stay back!” Raoul shouted, but not even he knew to whom he was speaking - Y/N or the Phantom. His next threat was definitely directed at the other man though, “you can't win her love by making her your prisoner, leave her alone!” 

Swords clashed together loudly, that is until they got caught on one another. Frustrated, Erik pushed his blade skyward, slicing Raoul’s arm in the process. 

He yelped, slipping on the ice under their feet, his sword rolling to the side. Taking this as an invitation, Erik jumped on Raoul, trying to carve his chest - right where his heart was. 

“Raoul!” Y/N cried, she didn't want them killing each other over something as silly as her hand!

Begrudgingly disregarding her pleas, Erik towered over him, “and now, Monsieur, **you shall die**!”

Looking over, Raoul promptly grabbed his sword, swiping it blindly as a way to protect himself, “end this!”

The blade caught on Erik’s waistcoat, knocking him backward, turning the tables rather quickly. Raoul knocked the Phantom’s sword away and raised his own, ready to plunge it into his chest. 

Ready to end this waking nightmare.

“No, Raoul, no!” Y/N sobbed, her tears taking both men by surprise, “ _not like this_.”

Raoul looked down at the pathetic being one last time before sheathing his sword, stepping away he grabbed onto Y/N’s waist, escorting her away from the man lying in the snow.

“Don't go!” Erik grunted as he stood up, but it was too late, Raoul had already placed Y/N on his horse and they were riding away. 

Groaning in despair, Erik kicked the hilt of his sword, sending it off into the dead shrubbery. As he did this, a flash of lightning lit up the sky and all was silent once more. 

§

Raoul rubbed his temples, trying to calm himself before ‘Don Juan’ began. Harsh anxiety bubbled in his stomach as Giry put the finishing details on Y/N’s dress, it was lovely, but he couldn't focus on anything that wasn't his worry.

“Don't fret, Raoul, it'll be alright.” Smoothing her skirts, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to seem stronger than she was. 

Looking to the mirror, the door standing between them and the Phantom’s lair, she sighed. The dress was beautiful; peach and black fabric intertwined on her overcoat, while the skirts underneath were dyed a deep black. Gold thread embroidered flowers brandished the dark skirts, but they also showed up on her firm corset.

Erik was looking at the three through the other side of the reflective glass when Piangi entered, that was unexpected and highly irregular.

“I wanted to wish you luck, Mademoiselle Daaé.” He said in his thickly accented voice, “here's to hoping the ghost will leave us alone.” It was wishful thinking and Erik didn't mind it at first, what he did mind was when the tenor offered her a white rose.

His red roses had never gone unnoticed by her, he'd watched her carefully put them in glass vases full of water, even the one he gifted her this morning was safely sitting on her vanity desk. 

That didn't mean he wanted anyone else to give her roses, especially someone she worked with! Piangi knew her, he wasn't some would be fan wishing her luck before a performance. 

“Thank you, Ubaldo.” Y/N took the delicate rose and placed it next to his own. White and red together in one glass, a symbol of unity. 

Slipping back into the darkness, Erik went to go get ready for his new show. After all, it was opening night.

Parting with the ladies, Raoul went up to take his seat in box five while Madame Giry led Y/N and Meg to the side of the stage. The curtains had yet to be drawn, but the ensemble was already setting up and taking their places. 

The show began a few moments later, meaning Madame Giry took her leave and Y/N was finally able to share her feelings with Meg.

“ _Here the sire may serve the dam, here the master takes his meat! Here the sacrificial lamb utters one despairing bleat_!”

“Meg, I'm terribly nervous about tonight.” 

“The Phantom loves you dearly, Y/N, he would never hurt you.” The blonde said, holding her friend's hand firmly within her own; they weren't cold like before, instead they were damp from anticipation. 

“ _Poor young maiden! For the thrill on your tongue of stolen sweets, you will have to pay the bill tangled in the winding sheets_!” The ensemble continued to sing, accompanied by the deafening voice of Carlotta.

Wrapping her arm around the ingénue, Meg grinned, “this night will be over before you know it, you'll soon laugh at each memory made!”

Y/N inhaled deeply, “you're right. I don't think I'll even be able to repay you for the companionship you've shown me, you're the first friend I ever made.” 

“There's no need to thank me, friendship is a two-way trail.” Now both ladies were smiling, the two embraced like times past, mentally prepared to take on whatever was thrown at them.

“ _Serve the meal and serve the maid! Serve the master so that when tables, plans, and maids are laid. Don Juan triumphs once again_!”

Signor Piangi, playing the character Don Juan, emerged from behind a giant arch that had been built near the back of the stage, it was draped in silk and hid a bedroom set. The piece of architecture was pretty handy, all he had to do was run along the back of the stage and he had a grand entrance.

Letting go of Y/N’s hand, Meg, who was playing a simple gypsy dancer, sprang onto the stage in her pointed flats. She pirouetted coquettishly for Don, earning her a purse full of prop coins.

“ _Passarino, faithful friend, once again recite the plan_.” Piangi’s voice wasn't terrible despite what happened at rehearsal, though he could sometimes be as rude as Carlotta, he really tried making others feel as if they were needed at the opera.

“ _Your young guest believes I'm you! I, the master - you, the man_.”

“ _When you met, you wore my cloak, she could not have seen your face. She believes she dines with me in her master’s borrowed place_!” His voice boomed over the auditorium, the audience looked skeptical, but not appalled as the cast members had originally been. “ _Furtively, we'll scoff and quaff; stealing what, in truth, is mine! When it's late and modesty starts to mellow with the wine_ …”

“ _You come home, I use your voice. Slam the door like crack of doom_!”

Smirking, Piangi started taking off his outer coat, “ _I shall say, ‘come, hide with me!’ Where, oh, where? Of course, my room_!”

“ _Poor thing hasn't got a chance_!”

Handing over a few things, he continued, “ _here's my hat, my cloak, and sword! Conquest is assured if I do not forget myself and laugh_ , _**ha ha ha haa**_!” Piangi pulled on Passarino’s large cloak, and the actor playing Passarino drew open a side of the curtain.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stepped closer to the staging, but she didn't go out just yet. She'd be playing Aminta, an ingénue, not unlike herself; perhaps too much like herself, “ _no thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy, no dreams within her heart but dreams of love_!”

The actor playing Passarino smiled at her voice before continuing the performance, “master?”

Hidden behind the curtain, there was a draw that was distinctly not Piangi’s, “Passarino…”

Raoul, from his place in box five, abruptly sat up. He had only heard that voice once, but it haunted his thoughts. Motioning for the guards, he could see Firmin and Andre look between them and what was happening on stage. 

“ _Go away, for the trap is set and waits for its prey_ …”

Y/N knew that voice belonged to Erik, she’d know his voice anywhere. She thought that’d she’d dread this moment, but ever since Meg uttered those words of encouragement, she couldn’t have been any braver. Erik, the Phantom, her Angel - he loved her with even part of his being. 

He would never harm her.

Passarino went begrudgingly, at this point almost every actor knew what was going on, and they were told to obey the ghost without question. 

That wasn't the problem, the problem was they had no idea where Piangi had gone?

Y/N’s dress swayed as she finally reached the spotlight, hearing the delighted gasps of her fans and admirers, she took off her thin black shaw. Looking around the set, she saw that no one was there, and doing as the script said, she started to ‘eat’ a shiny red apple made of prop wax.

Erik, disguised as Don Juan pretending to be Passarino, stepped through the curtain. He was wearing Passarino's robe, the cowl of which was hiding his face. 

Aminta startled upon hearing Don Juan’s first words, “ _you have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent. Silent_ …” Y/N, on the other hand, had been longing to hear him sing for her again.

She had hardly been able to stand his cold shoulder, she deserved more than that! Turning her head to face him, she was met with a tall looming figure, ah, that’s right. She couldn’t be mad at him now, for he was Don Juan, not her beloved Erik.

“ _I have brought you so that our passions may fuse and merge. In your mind, you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me! Now you are here with me, no second thoughts, you've decided_.” 

Yes, in fact, she had—

“ _Decided_ …”


	9. Our Passion Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not believe Don Juan will become a famous opera...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I think all of Christine's wedding dresses are ugly, so Y/N's wedding dress is the 2004's 'Think of Me' dress.
> 
> 2\. The 2004's 'Think of Me' dress looks a lot like the musical's 'Masquerade' dress, it works!

“ _Past the point of no return_ ,” his voice was pure liquid silk flowing from the depths of his vocal cords, “ _no backward glances, the games we played till now are at an end_.”

Staying in her seat, Y/N clenched her hands into tight fists, _oh Erik_. Why did his voice have to be so beautiful? She wished she didn't have to pretend, wished that the audience wasn't there so she could run into his arms and ask him why he acted the way he did.

“ _Past all thought of ‘if’ or ‘when’, no use resisting, abandon thought and let the dream descend_!”

Once he was close enough, she grabbed onto his hand and drew it across her chest. Taking the other, she intertwined their fingers and lolled her head back, where she was met with his stomach and used it as a headrest.

By doing this, she succeeded in flustering him, “wh- _what raging fire shall flood the soul_?” He tried ignoring the subtle curvature of her breast, though it was terribly difficult with them right under his hand, “ _what rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us_?” Trailing his hands downward, he pulled her close and held her tightly, “ _past the point of no return, the final threshold_!” 

Y/N suddenly jumped and pushed herself away from him, knowing she couldn't get sucked in with everyone watching; even if she wanted to.

Erik seemed to snap back into character himself, tucking his hands back inside the black cloak, he continued, “ _what warm unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return_ …”

Letting a beat hit before going into full head voice, Y/N walked to the other end of the table and braced herself by gripping the wooden piece of furniture, “ _you have brought me to that moment when words run dry, to that moment when speech disappears into silence. Silence_ …” The poor girl had never acted so sensual in her whole life! However, she supposed this could be a way for her to vent her frustration.

Frustration from Raoul not understanding, frustration from Erik ignoring her for the past few months.

“ _I have come here hardly knowing the reason why_ ,” she rolled her shoulder and tipped her head back before looking at her Angel, “ _in my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent_ …”

Erik’s breathing hitched when she looked at him, the hunger in her eyes awoke something strange inside him. He was thankful that he had the long obscure stretch of fabric covering him from head to toe, taking a seat at the other end of the table, he paced himself. 

“ _Now I am here with you, no second thoughts. I've decided_.” Swinging her leg onto the table, she smirked, “ _decided_ …” Y/N was finally falling into character, she was becoming Aminta. “ _Past the point of no return… No going back now, our passion play has now, at last, begun_.”

Holding onto the bottom of his seat (much like Y/N had been doing earlier), Erik took another moment to breathe. When he wrote the character, he had Carlotta’s acting in mind. Though hard to believe, he never thought of Y/N strutting around in this way.

“ _Past all thought of right or wrong, one final question; how long should we two wait, before we're one_?” Strutting with her bouncy skirt, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, their roles strangely reversing, “ _when will the blood begin to race? The sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames, at last, **consume us**_?”

Oh, he couldn't take it anymore! He had to turn around, to see her, to hold her. He had spent too much time away from her, ignoring her… Oh, Y/N, he couldn't ignore her any longer!

Standing, he strode over to her so they could sing together, “ _past the point of no return, the final threshold! The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn_!” Bringing her into his arms once they were close enough, he rested his forehead against hers, softly ending the song he'd written, “ _we've passed the point of no return_ …”

Y/N couldn't hear anything over the pounding in her ears, though she didn't believe anyone was applauding anyway. 

Turning her head so her gaze would fall on Monsieur Reyer, she scanned his rigid body, his face slowly paled as a police officer whispered in his ear.

She could only read one word from their troubled lips, ‘ _murder_ ’.

“ _Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude_ …”

Her eyes locked with his as soon as he started singing again, that wasn't his song… 

Raoul sang that to her in private! 

Had he heard them on the roof all those months ago? 

“ _Say you want me with you here, beside you_ ,” lifting the young singer, he spun with her, “ _anywhere you go, let me go too. Y/N, that's all I ask of_ —”

In a moment of face flushing anger, Y/N pulled the cloak off his head and the mask from his face. 

Underneath, she and the rest of the crowd could see a horrible disfigurement covering most of his face. There was a rolling wave of gasps, but not a sound came from her; he didn't scare her, his _face_ did not scare her.

Though there was clear betrayal in his eyes, he made no move to do anything, not until the shout of a policeman startled them both. Grunting, Erik swept what remained of his cape around her and sliced a nearby rope - sending them down through an escape hatch in the stage. 

Without realizing it, he had also weakened the chain that held up the great chandelier. All Y/N saw before she was sucked down a tunnel was a flash of gold and white, even after she felt water surround her, she heard the screams.

Meg ran in her pink ballet slippers, trying to avoid the glass and fire that spread after the chandelier crashed into the orchestra pit. Patting out some of the smaller flames, she ripped back the curtain that hid the other half of the set. Behind it, Piangi’s body sat propped against the bed, his head was tilted to the side, unnaturally so. Stumbling away, she fell and let out an ear piercing scream.

Police, stagehands, and most of the cast rushed back onto the stage, each more confused than the last. Most of the screaming had already stopped, so why was this ballet girl starting up again?

“What is it?” Carlotta asked, helping Meg up to her feet - which was extremely unlike her, “what has happened? Ubaldo!” She called for him, expecting him to have hurt his leg or something inconsequential, but she would have never expected what was truly there, “oh my God, Piangi, my love!”

Andre’s knees wobbled, “oh my god… My god!” 

Firmin grabbed onto him, unknowingly helping his friend stay upright, “we're ruined, Andre - _ruined_!”

“Monsieur le Vicomte, come with me!” Giry shouted, tugging Raoul off the stage, “I know where they are…!”

The gondola, that Y/N had once adored, rocked angrily under her as Erik jumped to dry land - the place he’d been living for the past few decades. 

Gripping the sides, she stood, wobbling only to be picked up and pulled along once again. Nearly tripping, she gripped his shirt, trying not to fall over her own feet, “Erik!”

“ _Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair, down we plunge to the prison of my mind! Down that path into darkness, deep as **hell**_!” Jerking her around, he pulled her over to a rectangular shape draped in dark fabric. 

She had noticed it briefly before, but she figured it hid something rather unimportant. 

Rounding on her bitterly, Erik continued without acknowledging the structure next to them, “why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place?”

She hadn't asked, but she knew he was going to tell her.

“Not for any mortal sin, _but the wickedness of my abhorrent face_!”

Above the narrow part of the lake, the small replica chandeliers rattled, licks of their flames fell into the water - landing with an unsettling hiss.

“Hounded out by everyone, met with hatred everywhere!” Erik’s eyes watered, “no kind word from anyone! No compassion anywhere! _Y/N_ …” Turning away, a tear slipped down his cheek, “… _Y/N, why_?”

Feeling heartbroken over what she had done to him, Y/N tried reaching out again, but he shook her shoulders before any bonds could be mended.

“ _ **Why**_?!”

 _Track down this murderer, he must be found!  
Hunt out this animal, who runs to ground_!

The sound of Raoul and Madame Giry’s feet scuffling down the stairs startled a pack of rats. Lowering her torch to scare them off, Giry rose it again and spun to look at the Vicomte seriously, “your hand at the level of your eyes!”

Raoul echoed, “… _at the level of your eyes_ …”

Madame Giry turned to go back up the winding stairs, only stopping to turn back and hand him the torch.

Removing his coat, Raoul took the touch and made his way deeper into the Phantom’s lair.

 _Too long he's preyed on us, but now we know_!  
_The Phantom of the Opera is here, deep down below_!

The stoney platform that had once been so neat and orderly looked completely ransacked, Aminta’s peach dress was sprawled across Erik’s organ and a dummy that looked eerily like Y/N sat crumpled on the velvet sofa. 

The real Y/N was now wrapped up in a fluffy wedding dress, it strangely matched her masquerade gown, in a way. Like her other gown, the sleeves hung off her shoulders, only now they were white. Her bodice was a plain white as well, but here's what really surprised her - the whole thing was covered in crystal stars!

It was a lovely dress, but that didn't soothe her anger, “have you gorged yourself, at last, in your lust for blood?” She did not belong to him, he now had to explain himself, “am I now to be prey to your lust for _flesh_?”

He scowled, “that fate which condemns me to wallow in blood has also denied me the joys of the flesh.” He knew he was being scolded and it made him feel like a child, a child that knew exactly why she was being hostile. 

Taking the veil off the dummy (which was also covered in diamond stars), he moved to hand it to her - being rather sheepish since he hated seeing her angry.

“This face - the infection which poisons our love…” Erik started after she took the veil, _his face_! It earned his mother's fear and loathing, how could it not corrupt their love in the same way? 

Reaching out to touch his face, she waited for him to focus on her; when he did, she rested her forehead against his, “this haunted face holds no horror for me now.” She told him firmly, making sure he knew it wasn't his disfigurement that caused her cold behavior.

It was in his soul, these outburst caused by jealousy.

He was so close to giving in when a splash came from behind the portcullis, Raoul gripped the metal bars, tearing Y/N and Erik apart.

“Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest!”

“Raoul?” 

“Sir, this is indeed an unparalleled delight!” Erik mused sarcastically, “I had rather hoped that you would come and now my wish comes true, you have truly made my night!”

Shaking the bars in vain, he gasped out, “ _free her_! Do what you like, _only free her_! Have you no pity?”

Erik chuckled darkly and turned to Y/N, “your lover makes a passionate plea!”

“Please Raoul,” she held her hand out to stop him, “it's useless!”

The Vicomte didn't listen to her either, “ _I love her_! Does that mean nothing? _I love her_! Show some compassion…!”

“The world showed no compassion to me!”

Ignoring his cry, Raoul continued, “ _Y/N, Y/N_ , let me see her…!”

“Be my guest, sir…” He gestured lazily, and the gate started to rise. 

Raoul ducked under the bottom as Erik stepped back, looking for something, “Monsieur, I bid you welcome! Did you think that I would harm her?” His eyes soon lit up and he swooped down, capturing what he had been looking for.

Y/N furrowed her brows, but Raoul threw himself into her arms, distracting her from the man that was far more unstable. 

“Raoul, what are you doing here?”

“I came for you, I'm here to get you away from him.” He answered, suddenly becoming confused.

She had no time to tell him that she had everything under control, he trusted her and she could calm him down, if only Raoul had waited! By the time she quieted her fiancé, Erik was already rounding back over to them.

“ _Why should I make her pay, for the sins which are yours_?” In saying this, he took the Punjab lasso and, before Raoul had the chance to move away from Y/N, caught him by the neck. “ _Order your fine horses now! Raise up your hand to the level of your eyes_!”

Catching the rope before it could fully choke him, Raoul gasped.

“Erik!” Y/N cried, running to grab onto his arm.

“ _Nothing can save you now, except perhaps, Y/N_ …” He turned and embraced her, “ _start a new life with me - buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me and you send your lover to his death, this is the choice! This is the point of no return_!”

She gaped at him, did he threaten to kill her fiancé if she didn't choose him? Pushing him away, she said nothing, she was in shock!

“Y/N, forgive me, please forgive me!” Raoul sobbed, “ _I did it all for you and all for nothing_!”

“ _Farewell my fallen idol and false friend_ ,” Y/N began bitterly, starting to edge closer to the water.

“ _Too late for turning back, too late for prayers and useless pity_!” Erik sang at the same time she did, before long all three of them were clashing beautifully. 

“ _One by one, all my delusions shattered_!”

“ _Say you love him and my life is over_!”

“ _All hope of cries for help, no point in fighting_!”

Erik sloshed up to Raoul, getting in his face, the two men started singing together exclusively, “ _for either way you choose_ —”

“— _he has to win_!” Was Raoul’s finishing statement.

However, Erik ended with, “— _you cannot win_!”

It seemed Raoul really couldn't win, _death or loosing her_ , “oh, which is worse?!” He cried out again, tugging harshly at the rope. 

“ _So, do you end your days with me or do you send him to his grave_?” Pulling on the other end of the rope, Erik choked Raoul enough to stop his breathing for a moment. 

“ _Why make her lie to you to save me_?” He coughed, trying to keep his hands level with his eyes, the task was proving rather difficult. 

“ _Angel of Music_!” Y/N shouted, stopping him from choking her fiancé to death. 

“ _Past the point of no return_ …”

“For pity's sake, Y/N, _say no_ —”

“ _The final threshold, his life is now the prize which you must earn_!”

Y/N finally sunk into the water, treading toward the two men, “Angel of Music, _you deceived me_!”

“—don't throw your life away for my sake!” Raoul finished, now shaking from his rampit anxiety.

“You've passed the point of no return…”

“I gave my mind blindly!” As Y/N’s words fell, silence did too. 

Everyone's breathing mingled loudly with each other's, ending when Erik growled, “you try my patience, make your choice!”

She was practically hyperventilating when she reached for his shoulder. Swallowing hard, she reflected for a mere moment, then turned him to face her, “pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? _God give me courage to show you, you are not alone_!”


	10. Either Way You Choose (He Has to Win)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as the musical, book, and movie end...  
> Y/N leaves the Phantom's lair with Raoul.

— **Raoul**

The hair on the back of Raoul’s neck stood on end, he was absolutely terrified because he knew exactly what she was about to do.

He knew she was only doing this to save his life, but he didn't want to be saved if it meant he couldn't be with her - couldn't marry her! 

What use was living if it meant she was suffering, trapped with this madman in the tunnels underneath the Parisian opera house!

Y/N tugged the Phantom toward her, their bodies colliding ungracefully before she bit the bullet and kissed him.

Raoul’s eyes widened in horror, but with the lasso around his neck, there was no way for him to look away. Struggling, he watched the other man fall to his knees, causing the lake around them to ripple. 

There was a long pause, that's when Raoul realized… _he didn't know this man_ , he had first heard of him when he became a patron, now he was going to lose the love of his life to him.

Erik stepped out of the water, causing Raoul’s breathing to hitch in his throat. Nothing mattered now, however, he'd be set free and sent on his way without her. 

He'd be forced to live without her…

Pressing himself against the bars when the other man drew closer, he gasped as Erik took a lit candle to the rope above his head. The suspended rope suddenly fell harmlessly, splashing into the water as he pushed it off his neck.

 _Who is this monster, this murdering beast_?  
_Revenge for Piangi! Revenge for Buquet_!  
_This creature must never go free_ … 

“ _Take her, forget me, forget all of this_ ,” the Phantom was crying, it seemed everyone was crying, “ _leave me alone, forget all you've seen_ …” 

Y/N’s looked on in confusion, then she realized… Lifting the skirt of her dress, she ran to Raoul’s side and wrapped him up in her arms. 

“Go now, don't let them find you! Take the boat, leave me here, don't wait.” He continued, hearing the mob grow closer, “ _go now, go now and leave me_!”

Still weak from his near-death experience, he leaned a good portion of his weight on Y/N. Raoul wobbled and took a seat in the longboat trying to relax his still shaken nerves. The ingénue looked back, spotting her engagement ring - running back, she grabbed it and slipped it around her neck.

Trying to be helpful, the Vicomte passed her the rowing stick, letting her get them out of there.

“We’re going, Raoul.” She whispered, only sparing a backward glance when she pushed off the dock. 

The frightened man, however, spared more than a glance. He could see Erik retreat back behind a curtain of finely crafted beads; and when he didn't come back out, the knot in his stomach loosened. 

Sighing in relief, he closed his eyes, letting Y/N row them across the lake. He did _not_ want to support this specific opera house any longer, perhaps another one would need his money more, maybe one in Sweden. 

Rowing evenly, Y/N looked down at her poor fiancé, his neck was bruised and colored a painful crimson. Kneeling down, she brushed her hair out of his face, “ _say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you_ …”

Raoul smiled shyly, peaking one of his eyes open, “ _share each day with me_ …”

“ _Each night_!”

Opening both of his eyes, he sat up and held her hands as they sang together, “ _each morning_.”

Being wary of his neck, he leaned forward and caressed her cheek before practically begging, “ _say you love me_!”

Y/N smiled warmly and turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand, “you know I do.”

“ _Oh, Y/N_ …” 

Tilting her head to the side, she met him halfway and brushed her lips against his. Giggling, she ended the dance they'd been doing for the past year and kissed him fully. 

The Vicomte was in Heaven, he was finally going to be with his childhood sweetheart - they'd be married and they'd never have to step under an opera house again.

 _It's over now, the music of the night_.

Once the happy couple was gone, Erik slowly stocked over to his throne and sat down bitterly. He heard the mob ranging on, coming down the stairs. 

They were getting terribly close now, closer than anyone had ever been. 

He knew what he had to do.

§

Meg was far ahead of the mob, so far ahead in fact that she ran into Y/N and Raoul on their way out.

“Meg!” Her best friend cried, nearly tipping the gondola as she gave her a hug. 

The blonde hugged her back, trying to keep her from rocking the boat, for Raoul’s sake. “They're close,” she said, “you don't want him killed, do you?”

“Of course not, here, take the boat back to him!”

Helping the shaken couple to dry land, Meg took the rowing stick and the three went their separate ways. 

Stopping at the portcullis, she jumped out of the boat and into the icy waters of the underground lake. Trudging through, she pulled herself up onto the dock, noticing there was no one around.

It nearly looked like there was no Phantom of the Opera.

Kicking her boots dry, she crossed the fanciful man made island. The organ had nothing on it (other than a strange mannequin that looked like her friend), the throne on the other hand…

Meg moved a man’s cloak to reveal a porcelain mask, she scooped it up and brought it close to her. 

Looking around, she noticed the mob had finally made their way down - but they were just as confused, there was no one there!

“He's gone,” she announced, as if Y/N had performed a spell that freed the opera house, “ _it’s over_.”

§

Above ground, Y/N and Raoul called for a carriage, the French firemen making sure they stayed out of the building while the fire was being contained. Firmin and Andre stood beside them, all four were in shock.

“Are you truly leaving, Mademoiselle?” Andre asked, knowing that the two would be married, the managers just didn’t know if they would be returning.

Leaving Raoul's side for a moment, Y/N took one of their hands in each of hers, “my managers, you know I can’t stay.” She didn’t want to put Erik out of a home, so this was the best solution. 

“We understand, Mademoiselle. You will write us though, won’t you?”

“Oh!” Her heart lit up with joy, the fact that they still wanted to hear from her made her feel special, she wasn’t just another ingénue for this theater, “of course, I’ll write everyone.”

And so she did, in the following months, she wrote everyone that had gone through the Phantom's ordeal with her. 

Dear Monsieur Gilles Andre,  
_My darling manager, it has come to my attention that you and Monsieur Firmin are going back into the scrap metal business. I’m happy for you! I hope the incident of last year hasn’t turned you away from the arts, I say this because my husband, Raoul, and I are running and managing our own opera house in Sweden_!

Dear Monsieur Richard Firmin,  
_I wish to invite you and Monsieur Andre to a production of_ Goethe’s Dreamer. _Much like in my first production, (which was_ Chalumeau's Hannibal), _I will be starring_.

Dear Signora Giudicelli,  
_Don’t think this means I’m getting special treatment, La Carlotta. I work just as hard at keeping my voice loud and strong, but as I write, I realize that a lot has happened since we last spoke_.  
_You've moved back to Spain, my condolences for Senor Piangi. He was always kind to me - as kind as the two of you could have been to an unknowledgeable little chorus girl_. 

Dear Madame Giry,  
_And as you know, a young married couple cannot always run an opera house. If any of you would be interested_ …

Dear Mademoiselle Meg Giry,  
_Raoul and I would love to have you working here in Sweden. Of course, we don't plan on living here forever, I'd like to return to France in time. However, this could be another adventure for us - one that is hopefully less dangerous_. 

Forever your Angel and Ingénue, _Vicomtesse Y/N Daaé de Chagny_


	11. Either Way You Choose (You Cannot Win)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ending that everyone wanted...  
> Y/N runs away with Erik.

— **Erik**

Erik turned (or rather, was pulled) toward her, which hardly giving him time to prepare for the worst. 

She'd slap him, he just knew it! Or worse, break his fragile heart!

Tensing, he braced himself. Though, it seemed he braced himself for a _kiss_ ; Y/N had embraced his ridged middle, pulling his taller frame closer to her until he relaxed against her body. 

Raoul looked on in both horror and wonder, he felt his heart to ache at their action, but he daren't speak. 

Remembering that the younger man still hung off his portcullis, Erik pulled away, almost heartbroken. Shifting, so he was no longer wrapped up in her arms, he grabbed a candlestick from one of his towering candelabras and held it above Raoul’s head.

Y/N’s eyes widened, she almost lunged at him - and she would’ve too if the suspended rope hadn’t suddenly fallen across his shoulders. Erik burnt the thread which the noose was held by, he was going to let him go, just as he had promised. 

_Track down this murderer, he must be found_!  
_Hunt out this animal who runs to the ground_!  
_Too long he's preyed on us, but now we know_ …  
_The Phantom of the Opera is there, deep down below_! 

Furrowing his eyebrows, he tried to keep himself from weeping like a child, “ _take her, forget me, forget all of this_!”

With a wet stomp, Y/N felt her numbness turn into anger. She kissed him because she loved him!

“ _Leave me alone, forget all you've seen_ … Go now, don't let them find you! _Take the boat, leave me here, go now, don't wait_!” He _was_ crying now, sobbing and struggling to get through his words, “just take her and go, before it's too late!”

Go! All he wanted them to do was _go_.

But she wouldn't.

“ _Go now! Go now and leave me_!”

Wrapping Raoul’s arm around her shoulders, Y/N helped him stand up and get to the gondola, all while Erik stared transfixed on his discarded mask. 

He left the couple, going to his room behind the door of beads. Beside his large swan bed, the bed Y/N once slept on, his music box began to play. The monkey atop of it started clapping his tiny cymbals together, causing the unshed tears he had tried holding in to fall.

Wiping the pesky stream away, he sang along, “ _masquerade, paper faces on parade, masquerade… Hide your face, so the world will never find you_ …”

Making sure Raoul got into the boat safely, she handed him the rowing stick, “are you strong enough to get out of here on your own?”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” He asked, trying to keep his breathing steady. Heaven knew his lungs ached, “aren't you coming with me? He's letting us go! He's letting _you_ go…”

“I don't want to go, Raoul,” pulling his once gifted engagement ring out of her deep pocket, she held out his hand and gave it back to him, “I’m sorry, I really am.” 

The Vicomte was speechless, but he soon gripped both the ring and the rowing stick, “of course.” 

“Thank you,” she said quickly, deciding to add, ‘I'll always care for you, Raoul. _I’ll always care_."

He nodded, his cheeks warming before he reached out one last time, “Y/N?” 

Stopping in her tracks, she turned back, “yes?”

“Stay safe.”

Nodding, she gazed at him for a while longer, only seeing him off before she pulled herself out of the lake. Running up the staircase, she took a deep breath and pushed aside the layer of beads.

Hearing the subtle clink, Erik perked up, his back straightening when he saw her. He was sitting on the floor, which made him look rather small, vulnerable even, “ _Y/N, I love you_ …”

Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides, but the harshness that caused her to do that quickly faltered. 

She understood that he had done bad things, terrible things even…

However, she believed that he could become a better person. After she kissed him, the petty anger faded from his heart, she felt it!

So she did what they do best, she sang to him, “ _say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_ …”

His eyes widened immediately, and his hand went up to grip his chest as he realized what was happening. 

She was singing to him - _she was staying_!

“ _Say the word and I will follow you_.”

Moving to rest on his knees, Erik reached out for her, “ _share each day with me_ …”

“… _each night_ …”

Y/N wasted no time running into his arms, and now that the two were sitting she could gaze at his features. Taking his face in her hands, she wiped away his tears as gently as she could, coaxing him into singing another line with her, “ _each morning_.”

With a blithe laugh, she pecked his lips, a timid smile adorning them all the while, “ _I love you too_.”

It was a sweet moment, sweeter than anything Erik had ever experienced before, but they couldn't stay that way forever. 

Above them, the angry mob stomped and rattled the beautiful den he had created in his youth.

“Can they not leave us alone?”

Keeping her hold on his face, she shook her head, “Erik, I love you, but you're being unreasonable! You killed Piangi, you imitated my late father. I shan't forgive you until you realize what you've done is wrong; you were not justified in your actions.” 

The Phantom recoiled guiltily, clenching his jaw, “I understand.” 

Smiling weakly, she recognized that it was a start, “good, now we must go!”

Saving the rest of the ‘Piangi & Buquet’ conversation for later, Erik stood with her, “come with me.” Grabbing a deskside lamp, he pushed the glass of a golden mirror to the side, much like the mirror in her dressing room worked.

Countless blankets draped above the row of mirrors, though it didn't look like it was necessary hiding anything, “don't be frightened, _trust me_.”

Taking his hand that wasn't holding their source of light, she followed him through the mirror, trusting him as she watched him close the glass behind them. He lead them up and down path after path, and soon enough they stopped at a barred window, “I-I didn't think this through…” He let go of Y/N's hand to shelter the deformity that decorated his face, he had nothing to hide behind anymore. 

They'd draw unwanted attention, no question, even more so seeing as she was wearing a tattered wedding dress.

“Stay here,” she said, suddenly coming up with an idea. Opening the barred window when the road parallel to them was clear, she re-entered the opera, running as she had never run before.

Her dressing room looked absolutely ransacked, but at least it was empty. She changed into something simple, a champagne-colored gown with white lace. It was perfect really, no person would expect her (a prima donna) to wear a dress that was so simple! 

Looking around, she spotted her mask from the masquerade. A glitter covered wand with a white mask covered in stars wouldn't work, but the mask Raoul hadn't worn would.

On the night of the masquerade, Raoul had been against wearing a mask - that didn't mean Y/N hadn't made one for him. It was a subtle black with gold trim, she grabbed it and one of her black cloaks before racing back down to the street outside.

“Erik?” 

“Still here,” he spoke, hidden relief had bubbled up from his core when he saw her face again, and it was relief he hadn't even realized he'd been hiding. 

Jumping down to him, she wrapped her cloak around his broad shoulders and fixed the party mask over his eyes, “what do you think of Sweden?”

“Sweden?” He laughed suddenly, “oh, Angel, you know I'd go anywhere with you.”

Grinning, she shoved the barred window, freeing the two of their long-forgotten duties. Reaching for her, Erik took Y/N's hand and hailed a carriage. 

Not looking back once as the panicked public gathered around the smoky art house they both called home, no, it was about time they started a new opera - one they could write contemporaneously.

§

Dearest Meg,  
_You needn't worry about me, dear friend. I'm safe in my mother country, Sweden. And if you're still in contact with the others, would you tell them the same_?  
_That's not why I'm writing to you, however. I've written to inform you that my husband and I have recently purchased an opera house_!

Sweet Raoul,  
_I’d cherish the thought of you coming to see our opera and its debut performance_.

Charming Carlotta,  
_Not only that, but my husband would like to apologize to all of you. My husband being Erik Destler, or as you might remember him_ , the Phantom of the Opera.

My Managers,  
_Do not let the name denture you. He's quite tame these days, and I assure you, he feels horrible for what happened all those years ago_.  
_If you can find it in your hearts to forgive us both, we would be delighted to have you_.

Your Darling Prima Donna, _Y/N Daaé Destler_

§

The writing quill was carefully put back in its place as the ink on the page dried, Y/N turned and stood from her desk, a beaming smile on her face, “I'm very proud of you, Erik.”

The man smiled, wrapping his arms around the young woman as she drew closer to his side, “ _you alone made my song take flight_.” Pulling her in, he tilted his head and kissed her lips gingerly, “ _you helped me make the music of the night_.”


	12. Never Learn to be Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An underwhelming finale, but hey, it leaves the story open-ended!  
> I hope you've all enjoyed, and remember! Love is Blind.

A wooden gavel rapped loudly and echoed across a dusty French opera house, “sold!” A portly man cried, gesturing for the item to be taken away, “your number, sir? Thank you!” 

It was a strange picture, once the most beautiful building in France, now a relic of the past.

“Lot 663, then, ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer’s voice settling everyone down, “a poster from this house's production of Hannibal by Chalumeau.”

The porter stepped up and lifted a large frame, the poster inside showing La Carlotta in the old Queen of Carthage’s costume, “showing here!”

“Do I have ten francs?” No bids were placed, “five then, six? Seven? Against you sir, seven! Eight? Eight once, selling twice…”

No other hands were raised, moving the auction along rather swiftly. 

“Sold! To Monsieur Deferre, thank you very much, sir.” Sitting the poster to the side, he moved on by ushering for the next lot.

A few people shuffled, nothing catching the eye of the majority. Most visitors just wanted to see the grand building before it was closed off again, something to take them into the past for a few hours. People needed that sort of thing, especially since the Great War had just ended.

“Lot 664, a wooden pistol and three human skulls from the 1831 production of Robert le Diable by Meyerbeer. Ten francs for this? Ten, thank you. Ten still? Fifteen, thank you. Going at fifteen, your number, sir?”

Raoul, in his old age, was confined to a wheelchair. He had recently returned to France, having been in Sweden for the latter part of his life [whether that be as Y/N's husband or as a patron at her and the Phantom's opera house, _you decide_ ].

Across the floor, Madame Giry stood tall. She was older than the Vicomte by a few years, but all she needed was a cane to support her.

They had noticed each other before, but they spared a moment to acknowledge that they were the only ones who remembered what really happened.

What that year at the opera house had been like.

“Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen, a papier-mache musical box in the shape of a barrel organ,” the man paused, “attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals.” 

Snapping his head up toward the stage, Raoul gaped, seeing a music box that Y/N had described to him on the roof all those years ago had given him a shocking dose of nostalgia.

“This item, discovered in the vaults of the theatre, is still in working order!”

“Showing here!” As the porter stepped up, the music box began playing on its own. It was a familiar tune that echoed across the auditorium, instantly reminding him and Madame Giry of the masked ball.

“May I commence at fifteen francs? Fifteen, thank you. Yes, twenty from you, sir? Thank you very much!”

Giry raised her hand. 

“Madame Giry, twenty-five? Thank you, Madame.”

“Do I hear thirty?”

Raoul got his maid to raise a hand on his behalf, he didn't want to fight with the ballet teacher, but he wanted that music box more than she.

“Thirty, and thirty-five?”

Madame Giry shook her head at the stout fellow, allowing her old friend to take it.

“Selling at thirty francs then, thirty once, thirty twice; sold!” He clapped excitedly, “for thirty francs to the Vicomte de Chagny, thank you, sir!”

The young gentleman made a move to put the music box with the rest of the purchased lots, but Raoul held out his shaking hand. The Vicomte’s maid rushed forward, taking it with a quick ‘ _merci_ ’. 

After placing it on his lap, Raoul seemed to drift off, “ _a collector’s piece indeed_.” From that line, a soft bitterness formed in the back of his throat, “ _your velvet lining and your figurine of lead. Will you still play when all the rest of us are dead _?”__

__“ _Lot 666_ , then, a chandelier in pieces!” _ _

__Madame Giry's eyes narrowed, however, she and Raoul shared the same unspoken opinion. The chandelier was not to leave that opera house, they'd make sure of it._ _

__“Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera, a mystery never fully explained. We are told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster. Our workshops have repaired it and wired parts of it for the new electric light. Perhaps we can frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination…” Stepping out from behind his auctioneer stand, he gestured wildly to the men by said chandelier, “ ** _gentlemen_**!”_ _

__Everyone watched as the canvas cover was pulled off, the once-shattered light fixture popped and sparks flew before them. The crowd was blinded momentarily as the two eldest were reminded of the lives they had once led._ _


End file.
